


Clearly Calm and Keeping Terrorized

by Batbirdies



Series: Emotional Motion Sickness [3]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, An attempt to combine all the other timelines, Bruce Wayne hasn’t always been a good parent, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Deep Seated Issues, Dogsitting, Dysfunctional Family, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Exposition Heavy, Father-Son Relationship, Fix It Fic, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, It’s not really how I intended it to go but here we are, Lazarus Pit Madness, Major self esteem issues, Nightmares, Platonic Cuddling, Pre-Rebirth, References to Dogfighting, Slow burn family relationships, So much angst, Some Medium level violence, Unintended Animal Therapy, Vaguely Suicidal Behavior, bad language, canon divergent after Damian’s resurrection, injury and illness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 02:07:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 34
Words: 258,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21845302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batbirdies/pseuds/Batbirdies
Summary: Jason made a deal with Bruce, no killing, and there would be no more conflict between them. At least on patrol. Jason reasoned it would be easier to accomplish his goals without constantly fighting Batman along the way.It didn’t change anything, not really. Not until he found an old gift he never knew about and Bruce asked him to dogsit Titus while he and Damian were out of town.Not until the Lazarus Pit started bothering him again.AKA: My take on a Jason rejoins the family fic.
Relationships: Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd & Everyone, Jason Todd & Titus (DCU)
Series: Emotional Motion Sickness [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1529249
Comments: 2384
Kudos: 2518





	1. Ooh, the years bu͏r͏n

**Author's Note:**

> _Takes place in a murky in between time somewhere in New 52 after Damian was resurrected. Still ignores most of New 52 as a whole. Gets very dark in places so as always be careful. Warnings will be detailed in each chapter but I did try to tag for things that will come up._
> 
> This fic is technically the third in a series, but can easily stand alone. 
> 
> If you’d like to read the previous installments, they are in my “emotional motion sickness” series. I’m leaving this one out of the series for now in hopes more people give it a chance! I’ll probably add it when this fic is completed.
> 
> ____________
> 
> This fic started as my Nano project for 2019 and grew into an absolute monster before December was up.
> 
> There’s a relative mix of canon timelines in this, in which Bruce was a good dad to Dick and Jason when they were kids, and became a (further) damaged, broken man from additional trauma over time....and wasn't such a good dad for a while there.

What a shit night. Jason couldn’t decide which was worse, the constant downpour, the asshole who’d shot a crack in his helmet, or the freezing chill that had reached down to his bones. He’d managed at least to leave the guy bleeding in the warehouse he’d had stacked full of drugs, trussed up for the police.

He may have gone overboard, a tad, but he didn’t think anybody could blame him on a day like this. 

Normally his night would continue for at least another hour, but Jason was done. The wet and cold was hell on his body, his joints ached, his muscles felt hard and tense and the constant shiver would be hell on his aim. He was calling it a night.

Just riding back to his place in the rain was enough to have him shaking out of his skin. He needed to get a better insulating suit before winter. When he was Robin, he’d had a winter version of the uniform. He’d never bothered much as Red Hood before.

Of course for a long time nothing really seemed to touch him, temperature wise. It could be over 100 or below freezing and it all felt the same to him. It was probably something to do with the pit, but it’d worn off by now and the waterproofing of his current get up could use some work.

Winters in Gotham were cruel and he wasn’t about to suffer like this through every patrol.

He’d work on it the next day, he told himself while dropping his bike at the bunker. The place was small inside and didn’t hold a lot. Jason had been thinking about expanding for a while but it was about all he could get on his current budget. It wasn’t exactly easy to find unmarked and abandoned subway tunnels that weren’t already in use, not to mention the people and funds necessary to set the place up. Stepping back from the crime boss angle definitely had its drawbacks. For the time being he was subsisting on the leftovers of another large drug bust. It would last him a bit longer if he stretched his budget, which he tried to. Stealing from criminals was easy money but he always got the ultimate look of disapproval anytime one of the bats realized where his money came from so he tried to keep it to a minimum.

Not that he really cared. They weren’t exactly a happy family and Jason couldn’t care less about what they thought of him, but keeping things _peaceful_ was the best way to keep them all out of his hair. If he stuck to his territory and didn’t ruffle too many feathers then he could do what he wanted without worrying about interference from _The Bat._

Changing out of his uniform was nearly painful, but the trip back to his apartment above ground was even worse. Enough to put him back in one of the worst moods he could remember. He didn’t even bother turning the light on when he walked in. He went straight to the shower, peeled off the under-layer of his suit and stood under the spray for an inordinate amount of time just trying to shake the chill out of his bones. By the time he finally got out he was limp and dead on his feet, all he wanted was his bed.

Of course half stumbling back through his apartment into his bedroom meant he forgot about the damn box sitting at the foot of his bed. It had been there at that point for nearly a month.

A little out of character for Jason really. Normally he kept his place spick-and-span, a burned in urge for cleanliness left over from spending nights in a dingy apartment with rotting food in the fridge followed by back alleys that smelled like piss and festering garbage. He liked things in their place, he _didn’t_ like leaving shit on the floor to be dealt with later. But every time he’d thought about unpacking the thing it made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

In his haste to mount the bed in the dark, loose limbs and mind utterly blank, he stepped right on top of it, tore a hole through the side and slammed his shin into the bed frame, spilling its contents out over the floor.

 _“Flipping, fracking, fudgecicles.”_ He swore, pressing his face into the blankets and groaning. There was a pile of shit all over his bedroom floor now. A pile of things he didn’t want to think about, and it was dark in the room and he was _so_ damn tired and he was already lying there, facedown in the blankets and he thought _screw it,_ climbed a foot further up in the bed and buried himself in the blankets.

He’d handle it the next day.

  


*

  


He dreamed that night.

It wasn’t unusual, he had them at least a couple times a week, sometimes more. It all depended on different factors, what cases he was working, what kind of crap he ran into on patrol, and whatever damn lottery his brain was playing that night.

The downside: They were never good.

Sometimes they started out that way. Completely innocuous.

He was in a grocery store, and he was looking for something he couldn’t find but he couldn’t remember the name of it, or what it was. And he was walking down aisle after aisle of endless produce. There was a puddle on the floor, one of those yellow caution signs set up next to it, a janitor turned away from him, mopping, whistling as he went and it was far away. A long ways down the aisle, but Jason recognized the tune. He knew the song but again, he couldn’t place it. But it kept getting louder, and the closer Jason got the less it sounded like music and the more it sounded like - like _laughing._

Jason was shivering, it was suddenly freezing and when he looked down his clothes were all torn up and he - he was bleeding.

Suddenly he realized the shelves weren’t full of produce at all, they were packed full of bombs and the next step he tried to take he tripped, his ankles were tied together. He fell on his face, right in the puddle on the floor and it wasn’t water, it was blood and the janitor was gone but that sound - the laughing, it was so loud, and it was everywhere, and he heard this awful scraping noise in the distance, something thin and metal dragging on the floor and Jason couldn’t breathe.

He tried to push himself up but his wrists were tied behind his back and everything hurt, it all _hurt_ so much. The scraping on the floor got louder, closer, he heard footsteps, and the laughing stopped echoing all around him because it was clearly getting closer too. 

“Robin, _kid,_ you’re really falling down on the job tonight.” And that awful laugh, “I really think you can do better.”

He felt the tip of the crowbar graze his side, just enough to make him shudder.

He was face down in a puddle of blood and Jason couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t _breathe-_

He came to like a dying fish, gasping and choking on nothing, sitting bolt upright in bed. His chest felt like iron, like no matter how hard he tried his lungs wouldn’t expand, they wouldn’t take in the air around him. His skin was on fire and he threw the blankets off, hands aching for a gun, for a trigger to pull, something to keep him _sane._

Jason shoved his face between his knees, trying in vain to slow his breathing because there was nausea crawling up his throat and - and _shit_ \- he managed to make it to the garbage can in the corner before he lost what little he ate for dinner. But like other times, at least, the vomiting felt like a relief. The coughing and gagging that followed were no fun, along with the racing heart and shaking hands. He spit into the can a few times, teeth chattering together.

It felt like there were ants under his skin, just looking for a way out. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand he managed to stumble to the doorway, stepping over the mess of stuff still spilled out on his floor, and flicked on the light. It burned his eyes but it at least gave him something to look at outside of the visions clouding up his head.

He still felt the sharp point of the crowbar dragging up the side of his ribs and his stomach gave another awful _squeeze_ that had him rushing to the bathroom just to dry heave in the sink. Turning the tap on and splashing his face with water helped just a little, but his mouth tasted sour and his stomach was still rolling up in knots.

Jason grabbed his toothbrush off the counter and nearly dropped it while running it under the water, his hands were shaking so much. He could hear the awful, stupid voice in the back of his head even over the stifled groan he let out when his stomach heaved again. He applied way too much toothpaste to the brush and jammed it in his mouth, barely managing not to fall down as he sat on the edge of his tub.

His ribs ached. And his knees and shins and his head felt like it was gonna split open. It was phantom pain he knew, maybe because he’d been close to hyperventilating for a good few minutes at that point and he was having some kind of premature brain death from low oxygen, but the knowledge very rarely helped. At least not when he was sitting in a blindingly bright bathroom with his eyes squeezed shut, scrubbing jerkily over his teeth and tongue trying to wash out the sour taste of stomach acid. Trying to scrub out the echoing laughs in his head, the sound of the crowbar dragging across concrete, the muffled thud of it against flesh and bone. 

Of all his nightmares, the ones of the joker were always the _loudest_.

Sometimes he’d talk out loud to himself, or hum, just to try to drown it out but that just ended up making him feel crazier. He wanted his gun, but the reflex always made him nervous and he pushed it away.

Instead, he brushed his teeth for a long time, concentrating on the sound of the bristles against his gums, long enough that his mouth was just full of foam. Long enough that blood started mixing in with it and the taste nearly sent him spiraling. He forced himself to stand and spit in the sink, splash water over his face and just stand there for a minute. He stared down into the drain and watched drops fall from the tap, gripping the edge of the sink with white knuckles, trying to support his weight with nothing but his arms ‘cause his knees were shaking something fierce, listened to his own labored breathing. 

Amazingly enough Jason Todd did not have cable, and his internet was spotty. It was annoying but the bunker he’d set up had better internet than you could buy plus access to the cave computer. When he moved into his place he reasoned that was all he really used the internet for. He didn’t have money to burn and the apartment didn’t come with cable. But on a night like this, when the skeletons in his closet were rattling like percussion instruments, he really wished he could turn on the tv and listen to some bullshit telenovelas or cartoons or reruns of Titanic or he really didn’t freaking care. 

Reading a book was always an option, that was what he usually did, but after _Joker_ dreams, sometimes it just - wasn’t enough. There were little tricks, little things he’d learned that helped and he went through the list in his head as he finally wrenched himself away from the bathroom sink, when it no longer felt like the bottom of his stomach was trying to climb up his throat.

There was a lighter on his nightstand next to a heavily scented candle that he lit with shaking hands, nearly burned himself before he set it to the side and breathed in the biting scene of pine. There was a half empty carton of cigarettes stashed under his bed but he’d been trying to quit and he saved them for when things were _really_ bad.

The trash can in the corner was a problem, one he’d rather not address right then but didn’t want to leave overnight because _disgusting_ and so he took a spare moment to rinse some water in it and dump the contents in the toilet. Then he splashed bleach in it and filled it the rest of the way with water and left it soaking in the tub.

Music was the next step. He didn’t remember where he tossed his cell when he came in and he had to stalk around the apartment before he found it sitting on the kitchen counter just inside the front door, unplugged and with a dead batter. He stared at the screen with an unexpected twist in his chest. “You gotta be fracking kidding me.” 

Abruptly, even though he’d woken without tears, just the pounding in his chest and head, he felt like he was going to start crying immediately. Sucking in a deep, noisy breath, he made a point of plugging in his damn phone and going back to his room where the smell of the candle was enough to at least put him more in the present. It was the music that helped with the Joker dreams the most though, without it Jason was left jittery and anxious and angry in a way that reminded him alarmingly of The Pit. It only seemed to get worse the longer he sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his bookshelves trying to decide which one would be the winner for the night.

His knee was bouncing enough he’d probably wake up his downstairs neighbor before something occurred to him. The smashed up box at the foot of his bed was still just where it was when he’d demolished it on his way in. The thought of it made a different anxiety twist in his stomach.

The box was from Alfred. Sort of. The box was full of Jason’s things, so he wasn’t sure it was really _from_ anyone. Except that one day after patrol when Jason had been high on pain meds, half lying down on a medical cot in the cave with Alfred working on his stitches, he’d admitted he missed some of his old stuff. The conversation wasn’t meant to go anywhere and Jason had no idea why he said anything but Alfred had told him he was free to take whatever he wanted from his old room - it was still his, after all. But the very idea of going back in there made his skin crawl.

He’d heard from Dick that it hadn’t much changed since he died and that kind of made it worse. Jason didn’t want to step back in time, no thanks. The idea that Bruce had turned it into some kind of museum to before he had died did weird thing to his insides and he’d told Alfred as much. He didn’t think he could stomach it.

Alfred had left it at that, didn’t push him to keep talking about it or try to tell him to try anyway, like Dick probably would have. Jason always appreciated that about Alf.

Instead, about a week later, Alfred had shown up at his apartment with a weeks worth of meals and a box of things he’d thought Jason might want. It was a nice gesture and Jason had appreciated it but he’d found, despite his earlier musings, that he held the same sort of apprehension to the box as he did to his old room. Everything inside it was part of his old life and most of the time it all just felt - untouchable.

He didn’t know why exactly, just that his years at the manor felt like some weird mix of dream and nightmare he could never quite suss out.

But now, with the Joker’s laughter ringing in his ears, he thought it might be the lesser of two evils and he hoped to anyone listening that Alfie packed his old MP3 player.

Jason slid down across his rumpled bed and slipped over the frame, nearly tripped over the crushed box at his feet but fumbled around until he could sit cross legged on the floor in front of it. He didn’t know where to start exactly, but he decided the best option was getting the MP3 player first. So, he dug in, pulling out old sweatshirts, a couple knit scarves, an old throw blanket. The soft things were all wrapped around the more fragile ones.

Underneath his old clothes there was a stack of notebooks, a larger stack of _book,_ books, an old baseball, and _there,_ the headphones wrapped neatly around it, was his MP3 player. An old iPod shuffle Bruce had gotten him more because it was something other kids had than that he’d known Jason wanted one.

What Jason was counting on, was good old Alfie, because while the charger for the device was neatly wound up next to it, it had been literal years since Jason had touched the thing and the idea that it might have any battery left was absurd. Unless Alfred had gone to the trouble of charging it before packing it away for him. 

With still shaking hands he unwound the headphones rapidly and shoved them in his ears, pressing the home butting and just praying for some kind of miracle.

“Bless you Alfred.” Jason whispered out over the heavy beat of hip hop music he didn’t even remember downloading. He took a moment to breathe, suck in the smell of wintergreen and let the music drown out the noise in his head. The rest of the contents still sat there in stacks, pushed to the side of the torn open cardboard or still organized neatly inside it.

This was as far as he’d gotten in a month and Jason decided to just bite the bullet and get it over with. He reached for the first thing that caught his attention and pulled out a framed photo of Bruce and him at a baseball game. The same one, if Jason remembered correctly, that he’d gotten the ball in the box from. Bruce stood behind Jason, a hand on his shoulder, a half crooked smile on his face that meant it was real, while Jason, at thirteen years old, stood in front of him grinning ear to ear with a mitt and a baseball held up in his right hand.

He didn’t remember who took the photo, it must have been some random person at the game, but he remembered being breathless and excited about going, that he’d never been to one before. He remembered telling Bruce that the closest he’d ever gotten was scalping tickets outside the doors of a hockey rink once and being chased off by a security guard. Bruce had gotten a weird look on his face that Jason never knew how to take, then clapped a hand on his shoulder and squeezed in a way that made Jason feel weirdly warm in the chest.

 _“We’ll go to a hockey game next.”_ He had said. And Jason had been beyond excited.

He swallowed convulsively at the twist in his stomach and set the photo to the side. He wasn’t sure he wanted it anymore. Thinking about the good times with Bruce was always bitter sweet to him now.

Usually more bitter than sweet. 

The phantom image of a Robin uniform always came to mind, filled out by some other kid, standing tall and smug. Jason shook his head. He’d decide later.

Next was an old backpack, still filled with his school books. He rifled through one, finding a doodle of a bow and arrow in the corner of one of the pages, a note scribbled underneath he couldn’t actually parse. There were pages of math homework, old assignments with mark ups from his teachers, little notes in red pen.

_‘Good work’_

_‘Nice word choice’_

_‘Correct formula but you made a common mistake, see me after class and I can explain it better.’_

Absently he wondered why Alfred had given him his old school stuff. Not like he had any use for it now and reading though it felt like going through some other kid’s stuff. 

It did give him a weird pang of regret. Because Jason had liked school. He’d thrived despite little shitheads in a rich school who thought he didn’t belong there and some teachers alike. Jason felt a weird sort of shame at never having graduated high school. Hell, he’d barely started. 

He stashed everything back inside the bag and set it to the side. He probably wouldn’t get rid of it, though he wasn’t sure why.

The stack of books was probably what he’d missed the most and he pulled the top most copy off and flipped it open. Jason had a pretty large stash of books at that point, and he had replaced nearly, if not all the novels he’d had in the manor when he was younger. But it wasn’t the books themselves exactly that he missed.

When Jason had moved into the manor the idea of having books of his own to return to had been a new and glorious thing. On the street, when he needed to keep something for yourself you found a way to mark it, or make it so other people just didn’t want it. He’d half ruined most things he’d snatched from stores just so they wouldn’t bother wanting them back if he got caught.

Before his mom had died he’d had access to the Library, which was great, but it meant that none of the books were his and he’d had to keep them nice and neat if he wanted to be able to keep checking them out. It hadn’t been all that easy either, with a drug addicted mother and a lowlife dad who was always bringing other lowlifes around. He’d ended up stashing them under his bed anytime he wasn’t reading them.

The books in the manor were different. They had a library, which Jason treated as such, but Bruce had also expressed to Jason that he could have his own books. Ones he got to keep in his room that he wasn’t required to return to anyone else or share. He could even make notes in them if he wanted, highlight whatever text interested him or that he wanted to return to. 

The idea of marking them up in any way had horrified Jason when Bruce had made the suggestion, but he liked part of the idea. It made reading feel more like he was an active participant, like he could go back and forth with the characters, like he was involved in the story.

He’d never taken a pen to a book, but what he _had_ done was fill all of his favorites with sticky notes.

Jason still did it sometimes, though he didn’t read as much as he used to as a kid when he was only patrolling on weekends and just had school to think about. He flipped through the first few pages of _Frankenstein_ , one of his favorites, perusing his own messy handwriting on bright pink paper, faded with age. Again though, the nostalgia twisted _hard_ in his stomach. He was glad to have them back, thought he might actually read through them someday. But what had been something he missed...felt a lot like something he could never have again, now that he was holding them in his hands. 

There were all these mixed up, tangled feelings twisted around Jason’s childhood. Sometimes when he was high on pain meds, or drunk maybe, it softened the edges enough to make all this seem like a good idea. But harshly sober and coming down off a nightmare...they just felt like a sad joke.

Like looking at the props from a movie you used to think was real life.

 _“Whatever.”_ He mumbled to himself as he grabbed a pile of the books and stacked them back up in a haphazard pile. His bookshelves were neatly organized, lining his bedroom walls on three sides. He made sure to leave room for more, and the second bedroom still had blank walls he’d though about repurposing for just such an occasion that he ran out. Normally things were organized by genre, then author, then title. But this particular collection he would keep together. He shelved them all on the lowest empty shelf near the floor, next to his dresser.

The picture frame he stuck face down in the drawer to his nightstand to think about later. The baseball, and the mitt he dug out to match, he left sitting on his dresser. The couple sweatshirts smelled like fresh laundry, which wasn’t surprising, so he didn’t bother washing them, just hung them up in the very back of his closet. They’d never fit him now, and just looking at them when he tucked the arms of the hanger through the neck hole nearly had him reeling at how tiny he used to be. 

His notebooks he didn’t even open, remembering clearly enough the awful drawings he used to make and his own amateur attempts at writing. Journaling had initially been a suggestion from Bruce, back when Jason had frequent outbursts of temper and never wanted to talk about them afterwards. Bruce wasn’t exactly a shining example of talking out your issues, so the journaling had probably been a nice cop out for him, but Jason still occasionally did some.

The throw blanket, Jason realized when he picked it up, was the same one that Alfred had knitted him his first year at the manor and that did get him a little choked up. It was red, and a little faded, the color clashed pretty badly with his bedspread if he was being honest but he didn’t care. He took the time to make up his blankets and folded the throw neatly at the end of his bed. Then he settled himself back on the floor in front of the nearly empty box.

There wasn’t much else he expected to find in it. It was large enough that Alfred had managed to fit his old skateboard, which Jason smirked at. Despite his skills as Robin he had never gotten very good with the thing. He left it leaned up against the wall behind the door and went in for the last item, sitting at the base of the box. It was wrapped in brown parchment paper and tied with twine, about the size and shape of a book if Jason had to guess, and a badly wrinkled card was tucked underneath the string.

Jason assumed at first that it was a gift from Alfred, stashed at the bottom of the box as some sort of surprise but the obviously crumpled and re-flattened card couldn’t have been the butler. So Jason slipped out the card, a nice stock with a simple picture on the front of a sailboat that looked oddly familiar to him. 

Upon opening the card he was momentarily confused. There was obviously a decent amount of text written out at one point, but it had all been scribbled out pretty damn thoroughly, he squinted at it for a moment, trying to make out the words as a slow dawning unease settled on his shoulders. Because while he couldn’t quite make out the words, the handwriting still looked familiar. A messy, but somehow still graceful, looping cursive that could only be Bruce’s. 

Jason swallowed roughly, eyes scanning the card over again and then peering into the box like it might now suddenly contain a poisonous snake. It didn’t make sense.

That there was possibly a... _gift_ stashed somewhere in his room from Bruce that he had never know about didn’t make any sense. And the idea that Bruce would have for some reason _gotten_ him a gift made even less. Unless it was something related to their vigilante lives maybe. Maybe it was useful to Red Hood somehow and the scribbled out card was code for something.

But something told him it wasn’t. Bruce was ridiculous and paranoid and overly dramatic at the best of times but a secret message disguised as an old gift instead of making a phone call or telling him in person on one of the not infrequent times they might run into each other on patrol made little to no sense. And the gift did seem old he realized.

Reaching in and picking it up out of the box Jason found that the parchment paper was covered in a layer of dust, brushed off in a pattern that could only have been someone’s hands moving it to begin with. The twine was brittle and snapped at the knot with a light tug.

There was a feeling Jason sometimes got, like he was swimming in the ocean and he could sense something huge and dangerous coming up beneath him, making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. In general it didn’t mean anything positive but he was already waist deep in this whole thing and that feeling didn’t tend to leave him until the cause was addressed. So he took a single deep breath and tore the paper off, trying to brace himself for any possibility.

However, when the paper came off he was left with a complete absence of any reaction. He hadn’t known what to expect but somehow what he found was still entirely unexpected. 

It was two items, stacked neatly one on top of the other. One, which was, in retrospect, predictably a book. A hardcover copy of _Pride and Prejudice_ , with a swirling and beautifully designed cover in deep, navy blue overlaid with gold.

And two, a slim DVD case with a photo of Kira Knightly looking _artfully_ off to the side with a blurry man in the background.

“What the hell.”

Jason yanked the headphones out of his ears, suddenly feeling the need for quiet to digest whatever the heck he was seeing. He grabbed up the crumpled card again and opened it flat, smoothing it out over his leg and squinting in concentration at the scribbled lines of pen. If Bruce wasn’t a pretentious asshole who always wrote in cursive he thought he may have been able to make it out but as it was, the only thing that wasn’t in cursive was a cluster of numbers in the upper righthand side of the card that had only been partially scribbled out. He should have noticed them immediately but he had been intrigued by what he was apparently not supposed to see.

The numbers were clearly a date. A date that Jason stared at with a numbness in his bones while his brain calculated where he was and what he was doing when it was written. It was dated nearly eight months previous. Just a couple months before...before the two of them had _talked_. That Jason had agreed to play by Bruce’s rules.

“What...the hell.” Jason repeated to himself. His voice strangled and clipped. Dropping the card he suddenly flipped the book open, flipping the pages in a fan and looking for something more, turning the book face down and shaking out the pages hoping to find _some_ other information. Nothing.

He cracked open the DVD case next, popping the disc out and the little leaflet of information thinking there had to be some kind of hidden message somewhere.

“This is such bullshit.” He whispered to himself, incredulous and weirdly lost.

A strangely frantic idea was occurring to him and he picked up the card again, stumbling to his feet and going for one of the notebooks he’d stashed in his closet. He took the one on top and tore out the first blank page he came to and then spent ten minutes digging around for a pencil, ending up with the single sheet of notebook paper and the card, standing in his boxers and a t-shirt in his kitchen. The card he laid out on the countertop, putting the notebook paper on top of it. He angled the pencil carefully and began brushing gentle strokes across the paper.

It was an old hat trick Jason used to read about in ancient detective novels like it was some genius level move, it would create a negative image of whatever had been written on the card before it was scribbled out, provided the original script was written with enough pressure. Bruce tended to have a heavy hand so he thought it’d be enough but the way the card was crumpled up made it a special challenge, leaving other divots and lines through the text.

When he was done he stared at the sheet of paper with a scrutinizing gaze.

“Damnit.” It looked like scribbles, which was exactly what it was, but maybe a tiny bit more like actual words than before. Jason studied it, trying to make out the individual first and last letter of each word.

The first word was clearly his name, he took the pencil and carefully wrote out _Jason_ below the scribbles.

The first line he could make out sparing words from. He went through the note methodically, writing down words he could make out, leaving a line on the page for each word he couldn’t, carefully counting each word until he was at the bottom of the card and his hands were shaking again, worse than when he’d woken up from the dream.

He stared at what he had, trying to make heads or tales of it.

_Jason,_

_I know ___ ___ ___ this book, ___ ____ ____ more ____ ___ copy. I think I remember ____ ____ me at some ____ ____ I ______ you of Mr. Darcy. ________ I was ______ and _____ _____ if my ______ ______ right._

_Maybe you’ve ____ the _____ _______ too, ____ for me to say. It’s ____ a _____ _____ ____ talked _____ books and movies. But I saw this pair _____ sold ________ in a classics __________ at the ______ Bookstore __ ______ and I thought of you. ____ _______ you might _____ it, ___ a good _________ of the book, if ___ _______. _____ __ _____ watch it ________ and _______ notes._

_I miss you._

The vast majority of it didn’t make much sense beyond being clearly about the story and probably not some hidden message, but Jason didn’t care a whole lot.

Instead he stared at those last three words, feeling a tremor run up his spine. He dropped the paper on the counter like it burned him and took a step back, swallowing hard. His eyes were burning and his chest felt tight and this was _not_ the bullshit he’d been expecting in that damn box.

 _“Fucking Alfred.”_ Jason scooped up the crumpled card and the sheet of paper and stomped back to his bedroom, grabbing the book and the movie and dumping it all in the bottom drawer of his dresser with old electronics and chargers he wasn’t sure went to what to be forgotten about. The drawer slammed closed and he stood there breathing like a freight train for a split second before he went back to the foot of his bed where he tore the empty box until it was flat and recyclable, stashed it under his sink, and fumed.

Glancing at the clock on his microwave told him it was nearing 5am, meaning he’d gotten maybe three hours of sleep and that the sun would be coming up in a couple hours. He stomped around his kitchen, dragging out coffee beans and milk and generally making as much noise as possible just hoping his downstairs neighbor would come pounding on the door so he had an excuse to scream and _fight_ with someone.

 _“fucking Alfred.”_ He hissed again, feeling utterly unsteady and bizarrely hollow. Like someone had scooped out his insides with a spoon. It was such a bullshit move.

Jason wasn’t an idiot. No way Bruce knew that was in Alfred’s little care package. Bruce had probably forgotten the thing existed, had probably thought it had all been thrown away. He’d clearly meant to dispose of the card, probably had, and Alfred had rescued it from the trash and kept it on hand, just waiting to leave it like a bomb for Jason to find. Probably hoped it would _open his eyes._

Make him see the light.

Jason was not going to be manipulated by some shitty card that Bruce had _thrown in the trash_ rather than actually give him. And what kind of bullshit _was,_ that? Bruce thought he could give him some crappy copy of a book and a movie with a casual little note and things would be good?

He was insane. Bruce was insane and Jason had known it for years.

Jason was shaking his head, pulling a mug out of the cupboard for the coffee and setting it down harder than he needed to. What had he even been thinking? what? That if he gave Jason a present he’d just forget about all the other shit?

Oh, except that he _didn’t_ give him the gift. Instead he threw away the card and put the package somewhere it was gathering dust for the past eight months.

There were dishes in the sink from his dinner and he went about washing them by hand instead of using the dishwasher, needing to move, needing something to occupy his hands.

Needing something to work out his aggression on so he could keep hold of the anger in his chest.

  
  


*

  
  


*

  
  


*

  
  


He’d bought Jason a gift. 

He leaned against the sink, gripping the edge hard and feeling the sharp edges of his indignation stuttering and losing their shape. He tried to grab onto it, hold it in place like the shield it was.

But - damnit he doesn’t know what to think of it. So Bruce bought it for him, and then what? Couldn’t bring himself to actually give it to him? His stomach twists in knots over it. Jason remembered meeting up with Bruce, agreeing to work by his rules.

He remembered he’d been in a good mood that day, that he’d felt more exasperated and amused by the request than he would otherwise normally be. He remembered Bruce being blank and awkward and the good feelings slowly draining. Remembered Bruce cutting the meeting short and making some excuse for it, leaving Jason with the same souring bitterness that always came in the end with Bruce.

Jason hadn’t gone back on the agreement, he wasn’t really sure _why_ exactly. Except that maybe...maybe him asking meant he didn’t believe Jason was some kind of lost cause.

Not that Jason _cared_ , he had nothing to prove, not to Bruce.

But sometimes there were reasons to prove things to _yourself_ and Jason wasn’t sure he had yet.

It didn’t matter. For now he wasn’t killing anyone and he was on the Bat’s good side. It didn’t explain the movie. And the date on the card...it was before. It had been from before Jason had made the agreement, when he was still-

He didn’t want to think about this stupid shit.

But Bruce had thought about him apparently. He...he missed him.

It was ridiculous. It wasn’t true.

Jason had to resist the urge to go dig that stupid card out of his dresser and try to parse out the words again. 

“God _damnit!”_ He slammed his hands against the edge of the sink.

He wasn’t supposed to care about this crap anymore. He _didn’t._ He didn’t care.

Jason didn’t care and he was going to stop thinking about it.

......God he was going to need a shit ton of coffee to make it through the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there is our first chapter!! I’m sorry it is Just JasonTM so far, we see other characters starting in the next chapter. 
> 
> ALSO, find me on [tumblr](https://batbirdies.tumblr.com).


	2. I’ll play the game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason doesn’t check his caller ID, regrets it, and finds himself agreeing to dog-sit despite his best intentions.

Jason was exhausted. He was dragging so hard that he’d fallen asleep on his couch while attempting to drink his damn coffee.

He’d slept for three hours after getting some pretty heavy exercise in the freezing rain, woke up from terrorizing nightmares and then spent an hour fighting off emotions he didn’t want to have. This all meant that as soon as he’d calmed down enough to sit the comfort of his couch was enough to put him out in minutes. He’d fallen asleep sitting up with his head lolling back on the cushions and he woke with a start to the sound of his ringtone coming from the kitchen, where he’d left his phone charging. His neck screamed when he lifted his head up and he groaned, reaching a hand up to rub at his aching vertebrae.

Standing up he nearly fell over, having to shake the dead limb feeling out of his legs before he shuffled into his kitchen. The clock on the microwave read 11am and Jason frowned when he looked at it, still feeling like he just crawled out from under a rock.

It was the grogginess, he thought later, that was to blame for his absentmindedness. Because he didn’t pause to check the caller ID before pressing accept and holding his phone to his ear.

“Yeah?” His voice was gravelly with sleep and he barely stifled a yawn before he suddenly felt like ice was pouring down his spine.

 _“Jason.”_ It was Bruce, and he sounded surprised, like he wasn’t expecting an answer. Jason wanted to laugh, because _yeah he shouldn’t._ And for the life of him he nearly hung up without another word. But that would just be weird and as far as anyone else knew everything was normal in the status quo. He could just see Dick start up with calling him everyday again, acting all chummy just so he could get the scoop on what was up with the black sheep of the family. 

And maybe there was a little bit of him still aching on the inside over a book and a damn movie.

_“...Jay...?”_

“Yeah, Bruce, what’s up?” He cleared his throat awkwardly, leaning against his kitchen counter and staring at his shitty linoleum floors wondering if the falseness in his voice could be heard over the phone.

 _“I um...how are you?”_ Jason blinked, feeling his shoulders crawling up to his chin.

“Fine.” His voice was clipped, but that ache went a little deeper. He wasn’t used to being asked.

 _“That...that’s good.”_ There was an awkward pause on the line and Jason stood away from the counters and forced his shoulders down, stretching his neck back and forth before he walked back into the living room and perched on the edge of the couch. He didn’t know what to say back, didn’t know if Bruce was even expecting a response. It wasn’t exactly the typical way their calls went. If there even was one, considering he couldn’t actually remember the last time they spoke over the phone.

Sure he’d get a contact over comms during patrol on occasion but never a phone call in the middle of the day. There was a tight ball of anxiety forming just below his ribs and Jason ground a thumb into his sternum. Bruce cleared his throat then and Jason tried to imagine what he was doing on the other end of the line. Was he at work? Sitting in his study at the manor? Down in the cave?

_“I know this is...a little unusual, and very last minute, but I was wondering if you might be able to do me a favor.”_

Ah, Jason felt the tension go out of his frame and did his best to ignore the twist in his stomach. It was a Batman thing. That was fine. Jason wasn’t expecting anything else.

“What can the Red Hood do for you?” He asked back, trying to keep the casual tone but hearing just how flat it sounded. didn’t matter, Bruce would never say anything.

_“Actually...this isn’t a...cape thing.”_

“Well then maybe you should spit it out.” Jason barely resisted biting his tongue. It wasn’t exactly the unaffected tone he was going for. He was usually a much better actor. He put it down to a lack of sleep as he rubbed his eyes, noticing a small chip in the finish of his coffee table when he opened them and ignoring the unexplained acrobatics his insides were doing. 

Pushed down the thought of the gift stashed in the bottom of his dresser.

 _“Right...you see, I’m going out of town for business starting tomorrow. I’m taking Damian along with me, he...wanted to come.”_ Bruce paused for a long moment to the point that Jason started getting antsy, tugging on a loose thread in his t-shirt until it tore before he bit off a sigh.

_“And?”_

_“And...he is concerned about Titus.”_

“Titus.” Jason slumped back into his couch, scowling at the blank screen of his TV. “His dog.”

 _“...His dog.”_ Somehow the conversation wasn’t going anywhere he was prepared for and Jason was _thrown._

“And...you’re telling me this because?”

_“Titus has a double ear infection, which has Damian extra attentive. Beyond that apparently he hasn’t been getting enough exercise since the weather’s been getting worse. Damian usually walks him twice a day. Normally Alfred would handle it for him while we’re gone but his knee has been bothering him and I don’t want him doing it.”_

There was a very obvious connection Jason felt like he should be making that just wasn’t coming to him, like he was looking at a puzzle missing a single piece and yet still couldn’t figure out what he was looking at.

_“I...was hoping you might walk Titus while we’re gone.”_

Ah, there it was, the last piece slotting into place. And Jason could see the picture now, but it was a bizarre one.

“You want me to walk the demon’s dog.”

 _“I...”_ Jason was waiting for some sort of scolding for calling the kid names but it didn’t come. _“Yes, if you’re available.”_ If he’s available? What the hell kind of question was that coming from Bruce?

The whole conversation was throwing him for a loop.

“If I’m available.” He heard a shuffling noise in the background and could just picture Bruce turning away from the phone to give a heavy sigh so Jason couldn’t hear it.

_“Yes Jay, if you’re available.”_

“Because you don’t already know if I’m available or not.”

 _“Jay.”_ And now Jason could hear that signature frustration peaking through, and really, he was being a little shit about the whole thing but his brain was still stuck at the beginning of the conversation like he hit a wall and couldn’t find his way around. He slumped back again into the couch cushions, scowling at his reflection in the tv screen. He looked like a pissy preteen and it just made him more annoyed.

“I don’t understand why you’re asking me. What about Dick? Or Tim? Or Cass?” Because since when had Jason been top of the list?

 _“Dick is living in Bludhaven again, the distance makes it difficult. Cass is in Hong Kong until just before we return. Tim...”_ Here Bruce did let out an audible sigh, it came out like a burst of static on Jason’s end of the line and had him flinching away from the phone. 

_“Tim and Damian don’t get along well. Damian would not be...agreeable to leaving it to him and I’m reluctant to ask Tim for a favor in Damian’s behalf at this point in time.”_ Jason watched his face contort in the reflection on the tv.

“Reluctant to ask Tim, but not me.” Jason hadn’t forgotten the time Damian had snuck into his safe house and tried to stab him. Left a crowbar in his _bed._

Not that Jason hadn’t repaid him in kind.

 _“That’s - I thought you might do it more for the dog.”_ The heavy resignation in Bruce’s voice almost made Jason laugh.

“Why can’t this mutt just go outside on his own? Not like the manor grounds aren’t massive, he can run around and exercise all he wants can’t he?” And he was just being difficult at this point, maybe, but he was rolling the request over in his head looking for some kind of ulterior motive because things were rarely ever this simple with Bruce and he wanted the full picture before he agreed to anything.

_“Damian is insistent that Titus hates the rain and he won’t go outside longer than he has to without being walked.“_

“And what, exactly, is going to happen to this dog without his twice daily walks for a week? Sudden death?”

There was silence on the line for a long moment and Jason thought maybe he’d pushed it just that bit too far that Bruce was going to give up and try to get Dick to do it after all but then finally, he responded.

_“Apparently the breed is prone to weight issues and heart disease and he’s been gaining weight. With the recent ear infection he also needs something to cover his ears so they don’t get cold when he goes out. Damian gets...a little overprotective of his pets. If we can’t find someone to walk him while we’re gone I think he’s going to end up staying home and I’d...I’d like him to come with me.”_

Jason was taken off guard by the twist in his stomach, making him swallow. Bruce’s voice was quiet, earnest in a way Jason barely recognized.

“Thought this was a business trip.” He mumbled in response, feeling suddenly tired again.

 _“It is...we won’t get to do much sightseeing but he expressed interest in coming along and I know he’ll be disappointed if he ends up staying.”_ Jason wanted to bite back something about being around more instead of leaving on stupid business trips and justice league missions, maybe the kid wouldn’t care so much then. 

But he didn’t. Instead he thought of Bruce calling Jason out of the blue, the kid he could barely talk to, in order to ask him a favor for the brat because _Bruce_ wanted the kid to come along.

Remembered being that kid, wanting nothing more than to follow Bruce wherever he went even it meant spending eight hours a day in a stuffy office while Bruce was in meetings, barely catching glimpses of him until the end of the day. that or holed up in a hotel room by himself. Living for the evenings when it would just be the two of them and they could go on some short little adventure to somewhere new. Even if it was just to try a restaurant they couldn’t go to at home.

And then thought of the crumpled up card stashed in the base of his dresser and it felt like there was a weight on his chest. He looked up at the ceiling, staring at cracked plaster and poorly addressed water damage before he could manage to muster up the energy for a proper response.

“Fine. I’ll watch the damn dog, but I’m not going to the manor every day. If you want me to walk him then you’re gonna need to drop him off with me and he can stay here.”

It occurred to him as he was saying it that it meant he would have to tell Bruce where he lived. Not that the asshole didn’t already know, especially considering he’d told Alfred a while back, but Jason had been tight lipped on the subject since the beginning and it had so far been a big enough hint to keep him away and keep the rest of the bats out of his business. Just by offering this he was probably opening a huge can of worms.

 _“That...seems reasonable. Damian probably won’t be very happy about it but I think he’ll live.”_ There was a hint of good humor in Bruce’s voice and Jason tried to smash down the corresponding lift in his own mood. _“Thank you Jay, I appreciate it.”_

“Yeah whatever. Just text me when you’re gonna bring him ‘round so I can make sure to be here.”

  


*

  


After agreeing to take Titus for ten days Jason had spent the rest of his time doing inane things that felt bizarrely out of place in his life. The Red Hood agreeing to dog sit and running errands seemed somehow laughable - going to the laundromat, buying groceries, shopping for a warmer coat, those were average people things and Jason hadn’t been average since he was nine years old and living on the streets.

And yet here he was, reading the same page of a book over and over because he couldn’t seem to stop the quiet buzzing in his brain while he waited for Bruce to get to his apartment with the dog. 

It was early the next day, 7am, and Jason would normally be sound asleep, and had _planned_ on being sound asleep until Bruce got there, but of course he’d woken up at six from a dream he couldn’t remember. One that had left him sweating with a racing heart and shaking hands and he had immediately remembered that Bruce was going to be there in an hour. The spike of anxiety that shot through him killed any possibility of him going back to sleep.

The thought hadn’t even occurred to him the day before when he’d made the one caveat to Bruce’s request - that he bring the dog to his apartment instead of expecting Jason to go back and forth to the manor twice a day or, God forbid, _stay over._ But he’d realized shortly after the call had ended that Bruce had never been to his apartment before. Of course he _knew,_ but it hadn’t seemed like as big of a deal at the time. 

Jason had never invited him and somehow Bruce had so far respected that and hadn’t shown up, even seemed to pretend he didn’t know where the place was even though Jason knew he did. Knew he’d never have an asset or anything close to one that he didn’t know every possible fact about. It wasn’t _exactly_ a secret, Alfred had been, a couple times.

The place was really nothing more than a glorified safe house. That’s exactly what it used to be even, but slowly he’d started spending more time there than at any of his others. More of his things had migrated there and after a while he’d admitted to himself that the strain of moving from safehouse to safehouse every three of four days was getting to him and he needed a home base.

This was the place he’d gravitated towards.

It was in an old neighborhood. Not a great part of the city (not that there were any), but not Crime Alley by any means, not where he normally patrolled. It was removed enough that he didn’t worry about being followed, in the Northern part of Somerset near the Gotham Public Library. It had an old neighborhood feel that Jason had liked. It didn’t feel safe exactly, it was Gotham, but Jason had never really felt safe anywhere.

It felt familiar, like a better version of the place he’d grown up. His mom had always dreamed of moving out of Somerset all together when he was a kid, back when she’d still thought Willis might have come up with some money he didn’t immediately splurge on booze or paying back somebody he owed. But when Jason had dreamed about getting out of the alley as a kid, this was what he had pictured. Back when he hadn’t really know better places existed.

Jason’s apartment was comfortable. It was neat, clean and put together, but it wasn’t exactly the lap of luxury. The building was old and had gone through enough owners over the years to have some noticeable wear and tear.

The stairs squeaked when you walked up and the handrail probably wasn’t to code. There was no elevator despite ten floors and Jason lived on the sixth. The walls were thin but he didn’t have noisy neighbors. Hell Jason imagined he was probably the worst. Coming home at all hours of the night, waking up screaming on occasion. It was a wonder no one had called the cops on him yet.

His actual apartment was small, about 800 square feet, an open concept living room and kitchen with old linoleum flooring that matched the bathroom, which were yellowing with age, but not cracking or peeling. He had Formica countertops littered with scratches from people not using cutting boards and dents from dropped dished and knives. The sink had been replaced close to when Jason had moved in and so it was nice and large, with a garbage disposal. the fridge was old but perfectly functional, no funky smell to it, but it did give off a noticeable buzz.

The oven was small and the cooktop only had three burners. There was at least a dishwasher that had been added in the last few years but it, again, was very small. About half the size of what Jason would consider standard. The lighting wasn’t amazing, just two dome lights in the main living space, and there was the large brown patch on the ceiling that told him there was probably some unaddressed mold up there. Or at the very least some damp floor joists that might not hold as much weight as they were supposed to.

He had an old, worn leather couch with depressed cushions from years of wear, a thick knit blanket draped over the back he’d picked up recently as the weather was changing and he knew his building wouldn’t hold heat well. There was a thick, plush rug laid out on the living room floor over gray carpet that still looked decent. He’d picked up a coffee table at Good Will one afternoon, something vaguely antique looking that wasn’t exactly in style but was made of real wood and felt sturdy and well made. 

His tv was probably the only new thing in the place and sometimes Jason wondered why he had splurged for it in the first place except that Roy had been the one to push it on him. Jason had argued with him about it for nearly three days before he’d been talked into a 72” smart tv with a built in Blu-Ray player. Why he needed a smart tv when he barely had internet was lost on him but there the monstrosity was, sitting on a squat little cabinet he’d picked up with the coffee table. They weren’t an exact match but it was close enough they didn’t clash. A single overstuffed armchair sat to the side of the couch in gray that probably used to be black. Still good condition but definitely not new. 

Beyond the living room was the bathroom, on the opposite side of the hall to two bedrooms. The bathroom fixtures looked like they had been redone in the 70’s and sported a powder blue sink, toilet, and bathtub, with the same yellowing linoleum as the kitchen, Formica countertops, again, and a vanity with square drawers and a single cabinet under the sink where he stashed towels. The drawers used to stick but Jason had gotten fed up one night and fixed them with sand paper and some silicone spray. 

The walls were a dull taupe color throughout and there was nothing hanging on them anywhere, making Jason suddenly aware of just how bare the place still looked. 

He hadn’t even considered the fact that Bruce was going to see it.

The place was fine. It was clean, and things were worn out and well used but they weren’t falling apart, nothing was broken. It wasn’t the manor, sure, but it wasn’t a dump.

And _why it even mattered_ Jason had no idea and had continued to bitch and moan at himself for straightening the blanket on the back of the couch and freaking vacuuming the carpet even though he’d done it two days ago. He was dropping a dog off, the place was gonna end up messy and Bruce wasn’t going to look around or probably even care. 

These thoughts did not calm the flare of anxiety when that knock finally came. 

Jason swallowed hard and took a quick breath, set his book down on the coffee table and got up to open the door before he could entertain the idea of pretending he wasn’t actually there and ignoring all attempt to contact him. For prosperity’s sake he did check the peephole before opening the door and nearly had a heart attack because it _wasn’t just Bruce_ standing outside. 

The demon brat was there too, leash in hand attached to the most massive dog Jason had ever seen. The kid was scowling like no other but the fish eye lens made it look more comical than annoying. Jason was an idiot. Of course the kid was gonna come along, it was _his_ dog. That he was apparently protective enough of that he didn’t want just anyone watching him.

Bruce, next to him, looked enormous, with a blank expression that never failed to make Jason either irritated or nervous. That morning his stomach couldn’t seem to decide.

Damian glanced at Bruce, frown deepening, and Jason realized he’d been standing at the door for probably too long. “Here goes nothing.” He whispered to himself before stepping back and unlocking the deadbolt. He attempted to smile when he swing the door open but it was still really freaking early and Jason wasn’t really prepared for the way his stomach swooped when he looked at Bruce.

He couldn’t get that damned card out of his head. Couldn’t help wondering what he was thinking when he picked up the book and movie and decided it was a good gift for Jason, whom he hadn’t had more than one pleasant conversation that wasn’t about vigilante business within the last four months. And before that...he had no idea.

“Hey.” He said lamely, stepping to the side at the expectant huff from Damian. They both walked in, Damian with an air of superiority that Jason wasn’t sure he knew how to turn off, Bruce with an awkward sort of shuffle that almost caught him off guard. Jason realized that without the fish eye lense making him look huge and out of proportion - he mostly just looked tired.

There were bags under his eyes and a bruise on his cheek that Jason knew he would normally cover with makeup. His hair was mussed and he was wearing track pants and tennis shoes with a cotton t-shirt and a zip up hoodie. He was also carrying _three_ enormous shopping bags that he set on the floor just inside the door. When he straightened, his eyes went to Damian before Jason and he realized he was staring at Bruce, obviously so, and snapped his eyes to the kid too. 

Damian took the dog in a loop around the main space while inspecting everything with a sharp eye as Titus nosed around his kitchen cabinets and past the main window in the living room.

“He better not pee on anything.”

Damian gave him a sharp look and scoffed. “Please, just because you lack proper house training does not mean all animals do.” Jason raised his eyebrows at the acid in the kid’s tone and nearly bit something nasty right back before Bruce spoke up.

 _“Damian.”_ The kid stiffened, slowly lowering his shoulders, staring down at the dog with a deeply unhappy expression and a hard twist to his mouth. Bruce took a breath and Jason chanced a glance over. He had his eyes closed, a wrinkled line between his eyebrows, before it smoothed out and he opened them again. His gaze flicked to Jason where he stood, feeling weirdly out of place in his own apartment.

“He’s nervous.”

“I am not-“

 _“Damian.”_ They both stared at each other for an extended moment, Damian’s posture stretched tight. “Jason is doing you a favor. Act like it.”

“We could just bring him along-“

“We are not bringing a Great Dane to London. We’ve been over this.” And by the droning tone of his voice, they must have been, multiple times. The kid was wringing the leash in his hands and the dog was looking up at him, ears back and tail thumping the ground before he nosed at Damian’s clenched fists. _Damn,_ the kid actually was nervous.

“He is not well.” Damian said as he let go of the leash with one hand and set it gently on the Dane’s head, rubbing back and forth absently, like he didn’t even realize he was doing it.

“He has an ear infection Damian. It’s not serious. Jason can handle it.” Bruce’s voice was soft then, cajoling like he was talking to a kid who was actually Damian’s age and not some old man stuffed in the skin of a twelve year old. He sounded...gentle, and Jason had to turn away from him entirely to ignore the uncomfortable tightness in his chest. Busied himself straightening the blanket on the back of the couch that was clearly already straight.

He remembered that voice, didn’t realize Bruce still had it in him.

Damian turned his gaze to Jason finally, glare firmly in place along with a look of deep distrust.

Jason remembered working with the kid. Wearing that ridiculous costume with the fake feathers and he wondered how they made it out the other side of that with less trust than they started with. Damian had been more upset than Jason anticipated when he’d found out who Wingman actually was.

It may have hurt Jason’s feelings, a tad, not that he would ever admit it.

Another part of him felt bad for lying to the kid.

“Relax twerp. I’ll take good care of your dog.”

“Tt.” He glanced around the apartment again with a look of distaste but the tension in his frame diminished just a little. “Your apartment is smaller than I anticipated. Titus may require more than two walks a day if he is cooped up in _here_ all the time.”

Jason stiffened, “Well sorry I don’t live in a fucking mansion.” There was more heat in his voice than he was aiming for and he had to wrestle down anything else he might say before he looked just as defensive as he suddenly felt.

An awkward silence hung in the air after his outburst, Damian staring at him with that stupid scowl. Bruce took a half step closer to Jason and he had to resist the urge to step back. 

“Your apartment is fine Jay. Titus sleeps most of the day anyway.” Jason rolled his eyes, telling himself to _get a grip._

“Whatever. What’s with the apocalyptic supply stash?” He jut his chin toward the pile of crap by his front door.

The question at least, sent Damian into motion, so he wasn’t staring around Jason’s apartment like he expected the place to collapse in on itself at any moment. He unhooked Titus’ leash from his collar and coiled it up in a loop that he left sitting on Jason’s kitchen counter, and then went for the first bag.

When Jason said enormous bags, he meant it. They were three times the size of regular grocery bags, he didn’t know you could even get bags that size. They had a logo on the side he didn’t recognize, something with paw prints, obviously some kind of pet store.

First he pulled out a massive dog bed, which Jason supposed made sense. Best thing he had was the blanket on the back of his couch. The kid looked around while holding it, like he was gauging the perfect place and finally set it down next to the gargantuan tv.

Bruce sidled up to Jason’s left side while they both watched Damian unload the bags. Jason, uncomfortably aware of his presence, did not look over or acknowledge him.

“Thank you for doing this.” Bruce said under his breath, while Damian dragged an unwieldy bag of dog food across his floor and propped it against his kitchen counter. Jason only grunted in return, not sure what to think of the whole thing still.

Next came a stainless steel water dish and a matching one in porcelain for the food. Then a fresh container of tennis balls, two leashes, some kind of waterproof coat and then a _red freaking dog sweater_ that Jason had to stifle a laugh at. “He really is just nervous.” 

This was even quieter than the thank you and Jason felt the need to look over. “The infection isn’t terrible, but before we took him into the vet he was acting strange, whining and tilting his head back and forth, standing with it at an odd angle that obviously wasn’t natural. He wouldn’t stay still, would only lie down for a minute at a time before he got up and paced the room. I think he was terrified it was some kind of brain tumor, that he was having complex seizures.”

Jason frowned, watching a white paper bag make its way to his kitchen counter with a prescription tag stapled to the outside. “He’s a good kid, just...” He waited for the word _difficult_ to come out. Just like how people used to describe him, always angry, defensive, _annoying._ Interacting with the kid he could see why people couldn’t stand him when he was younger but he still _got_ Damian to a certain degree.

“He’s had a hard time.” Was what he said instead and Jason had to turn away again, deciding finally to go introduce himself to the dog to ease the tangled mess in his gut. 

He was so irritated, two days ago he would never have been so much of a mess over talking to Bruce, even in a casual setting, even in his own apartment. One stupid freaking hint of the man caring about him beyond what he contributed to fighting crime in the city and he was bending over backwards looking for other signs. He hated his own stupid, dysfunctional brain.

Jason held out a hand to Titus, taking a deep breath to let go of the tightness in his chest. Animals and little kids, they could always tell when you were upset and he didn’t want to make him nervous. 

Honestly, he was huge. Like, Jason knew Great Danes were one of the largest breeds of dog but this particular one had to be even bigger than average. He sat on the corner of the living room carpet, watching Jason with alert but friendly eyes and easily sniffed at the hand, then shoved his nose into his palm and butt it up so his hand rested on the top of his snout. Jason huffed out a laugh and crouched down.

“Like being petted huh?” He scratched behind his ears and was nearly bowled over. Titus twisted his head so far to the side Jason couldn’t quite follow with his hand and then shoved forward right into him, knocking him off balance with his insistence. Then a hand reached for the collar and drew him back just enough to keep Jason mostly upright. Bruce was standing there, looking mildly amused as he looked down at the dog.

“The drops the vet game him make his ears itch, he can get a little pushy.”

“I can see that.” Jason muttered back. He knelt then, knees on the floor so he was more stable and reached out, ready for the sudden twist and shove. “You can let him go, I got it.”

Titus nearly lunged for him, shoving his whole face in Jason’s stomach, making him wheeze out a laugh. He rubbed with significant force at his ears and the dog went boneless, flopping down across his legs, whip like tail slapping loudly against the side of his coffee table. “Yeah, wow, you’re so big and tough huh? You must get people running for the hills killer.” Jason scratched down his neck and Titus made a funny little grunting noise and fell over sideways, belly exposed, head resting on his thigh and yeah ok, Jason wasn’t a monster, he rubbed his tummy. “Man you are heavy. Might need to put you on a diet.”

“Apparently, he’s already on one.” Jason glanced up at Bruce, who was still standing there, arms crossed over his chest, looking down at him with this odd little quirk to his mouth. If Jason had to guess he’d say he looked _fond._ And he didn’t know what to do with that so he went back to the dog, feeling himself flush.

Damian cleared his throat, pulling Jason’s attention back to him. He was standing at the edge of his kitchen counter, hands clasped in front of him in a way that reminded Jason starkly of Alfred of all people. He still didn’t look happy, per say, but the anxiety leeching off the kid had gone down and he was staring at Jason intently.

“Yes. He is on a diet. He has gained weight since the weather started to turn.” With that, the kid launched into a spiel about the do’s and don’t’s of watching Titus. the list was significantly longer than Jason had anticipated, partially due to the ear infection but mostly just because the kid was a little pissant with way too many rules. 

Jason took it all with as much stoicism as he could muster until he pulled out a freaking muffler for the dog.

“What the heck is that?” Jason was still kneeling on the floor, dog laid out half in his lap, lazily wagging his tail and Damian was holding a thick square of black fabric in his hands that turned out to be a tube, it had drawstrings on the top and bottom to adjust the size of loop. 

“It is,” he made a face here, obviously unhappy about what he was about to say, “called a Head Muff. It goes over the neck and ears to keep them warm on walks.” He laid it down next to the prescription baggy and Jason had to hold back a snort and instead looked back at Bruce out of the corner of his eye and found him already looking down at Jason, expression completely blank and this time Jason choked when he caught the twitch of Bruce’s lip. Somehow he managed to disguise it as a cough when he looked back but Damian looked suspicious none the less.

“I expect hourly update texts with photo’s.”

_“Excuse me?”_

“You have never owned a dog have you?” the question sounded remarkably accusatory and Jason felt the need to gently push Titus off his lap just so he could stand to his full height for this conversation.

“No, I haven’t but-“

“Then I will need proof that you are capable of the job.”

 _“Capable of the job?_ It’s dog sitting, not nuclear fission.”

“The very fact that you are not taking this seriously tells me it is necessary.”

“Well if you don’t fucking trust me then you can get somebody else to watch your damn dog.”

Damian had his arms crossed over his chest tightly, scowl intensifying with every breath. “Because you have shown yourself to be so _trustworthy.”_ Jason clenched his hands in fists, feeling red creep up his neck.

“Damian.” Bruce’s deep voice cut across the room, quiet, but firm. He stepped around Jason, putting himself vaguely between them but not enough to be obvious. “You’re being unreasonable. Jason is perfectly capable of walking, watering, and feeding Titus, along with handling his ear drops.” He glanced back at Jason, eyes uncertain for a moment. “He always wanted a dog when he was younger, he’ll treat Titus well.”

Jason opened his mouth, ready to argue until that last sentence. Instead he blinked back at Bruce for a moment, feeling floored by the simple statement. He didn’t have a response and quickly broke eye contact, swinging them back to Damian whose mouth was twisted in a grimace before he finally heaved a sigh and uncrossed his arms. 

“So be it.”

Bruce gave a soft sigh but didn’t say anything for a long moment, eyes moving between Jason, Damian, and the dog before he slipped his hands back into his pockets and squared his shoulders a bit.

“Alright. I think it’s time we head to the airport. Jason has everything he needs for Titus, so why don’t you say goodbye and head out to the car?” Jason blinked at Bruce for a moment, wondering what the heck the kid could have to say to him.

But then Damian went to Titus, who still sat by Jason’s feet, and knelt down in front of him. Jason shuffled to the side, looking down at them as Damian lifted his hands and held the dogs face on either side. Titus flicked out his tongue, swiping it across the kid’s chin, making him huff. The kid glanced up at Jason, eyes guarded, before turning his attention back to the dog.

He pulled Titus face down gently, leaning forward and pressing their foreheads together. Whispered something in Arabic that Jason didn’t catch and ran a hand down the dog’s neck. Then he pulled back and then stood up. Jason felt oddly like he’d just witnessed something private, flicked his gaze away when Damian looked at him again. He glanced between Jason and Bruce, and gave a single, sharp nod.

“I will be in the car then.”

With that, he turned and walked out, head high above his shoulders. He left the door open behind him and Jason watched him stuff his hands in his pockets and hunch his shoulders as he began descending the stairs before he disappeared from view. Bruce cleared his throat.

“Thank you, again, I know it’s inconvenient and very last minute.”

Jason shrugged, not knowing what else to do or say, suddenly grateful that the kid had come along because now that he wasn’t there it was like the air was thickening. 

“We’ll both be available by text or phone at anytime, regardless of the time difference, if anything _does_ go wrong. Not that I expect it to.” Bruce hurried to add. 

“We’ll be back in ten days, fairly early in the morning. We can arrange to pick up Titus anytime that day. Whenever’s...convenient for you.”

Jason nodded along, and then Bruce just stood there, looking at him with his creepy intense stare. He should have said something, probably, just to cut short the awkward and get the man out of his apartment but Jason was silent, staring right back. 

“Well...I hope you - have a good time, while we’re gone. We’ll see you when we get back.” 

“Yeah, you too.” Jason said back, tone flat, reaching down to rest a hand on Titus head. The air between them was so stale he could practically taste it. And finally, Bruce nodded, turned, and walked out the door after Damian.

Jason watched him go too, watched as he pulled the door shut behind him and caught the briefest hesitation before his hand disappeared and the latch caught. He was struck by the urge then, to ask about the gift. To yank open the door and stop him. His stomach gave an uncomfortable flip as his mind went through Bruce’s facial expressions, his stiff posture, wondered what he was thinking of saying when he hesitated.

And then he swallowed it all down and went to sit on his couch, where Titus followed and jumped up next to him. He was taller than Jason when they were sitting down and had no compunction about flopping back down over Jason’s legs, settling his head on his thigh. It was a comfortable weight.

“I’m being an idiot.” He whispered to the dog, scratching lightly behind his ears. “Reading into things that aren’t there.” He needed to learn a freaking lesson, there was nothing there with Bruce and there never would be and he needed to drop it. Should just throw away the card. 

But he didn’t. And he wouldn’t.

Instead he ignored it all, leaned back on the couch, letting Titus settle over his hips, and fell back asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’re curious, this is the “Head Muff” Damian brought with him. https://chillydogs.ca/product/head-muff/ I think they are hilarious and adorable.
> 
> Chapter title from the song Numb by Meg Myers. 
> 
> Fic title from the song All Is Now Harmed, by Ben Howard
> 
> I’m Batbirdies on tumblr if anyone is interested. I reblog batfam stuff and will post there when I upload a new chapter.


	3. Woken up (kicking, screaming)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason thought he had everything handled, but he was wrong a lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See end notes for trigger warnings.
> 
> ALSO: Please check out my new fic _I’ll Come Out Right On The Other Side_ I just started uploading that takes place somewhere between _Live While I Breathe_ and this fic.
> 
> Doing a bit of handwavy timing because when I wrote LWIB I had Stephanie mention it was October and this fic starts in November and this new one.....definitely would span a larger time span than one to two months. So we’ll call it a comics thing, where weeks and months in canon last like....actual years in real life. None of it makes sense, just go with it.

Jason didn’t know how long he was able to sleep in the end, but it must have been hours, longer than he would have ever expected. 

Because when he did wake up the lighting was different, the sun was noticeably lower in the sky and there was scratching and a whining noise coming from his apartment door. 

“Shit.” Jason jolted upright, turning to see Titus standing at the door, ears down and tail wagging low, whining in this pathetic, breathy voice. “Right, crap, you gotta pee.” He stumbled up from the couch, fumbling for the leash Damian had left sitting on his kitchen counter. He didn’t know how long he had exactly before this giant dog took an equally giant piss in his apartment and so he rushed to shove his boots on, stuff his arms through the sleeves of the first coat he saw in the hall closet, hook the leash up and go. 

They half jogged down the stairs and hit the outside with enough force the door slammed into the wall and Jason almost knocked over a little old lady carrying a grocery bag.

“Sorry, sorry.” He said with both hands up before Titus was jerking him down the sidewalk and immediately peeing on the side of his apartment building. Ok so, Jason wasn’t starting off so hot, but he’d managed to avoid a complete disaster on the first go around. It was damn cold outside though and he very much regretted the thin t-shirt and lack of scarf. 

And shit he hadn’t put any of Titus’ gear on. If the brat were there he’d probably have a conniption fit. It was one walk, Jason told himself, as the dog sniffed around. Animals were basically impervious to cold in short doses and it was just a couple blocks. He wasn’t about to go back upstairs and dress the dog for a nice long walk because of Damian’s stupid rules. Titus didn’t seem bothered one bit and in fact seemed more than happy to nose around the building and sniff at everything in sight. Probably hadn’t seen much outside the manor, Jason supposed.

The only sign that maybe Jason was mistaken were a couple head shakes from Titus as they looped around the building. They were only out for maybe ten minutes, but there was a breeze, and Jason sure felt it. He was all too eager to coral the dog back into the building, up the stupid amount of stairs and into his apartment where it felt like a sauna compared to the outside, even though it was probably sixty five. 

Jason abandoned his coat and grabbed the throw off the couch, wrapping it around his shoulders and huffing to himself. He should just throw away that coat, he thought while going over the rest of Titus things. He measured out the directed amount of food and dropped it in his dish and left the water alone since Damian had filled it before they left. He also realized that he himself was a little hungry, having slept half the day away apparently, and went about dragging things out of the fridge. 

He ended up just making a sandwich, and was halfway through when Titus came into the kitchen to eat his own dinner. Only Jason saw him stop eating after just a couple bites and jerk his head to the side, letting out a soft little whine and a halfhearted swipe at his ear. Jason paused, watching him, he panted for a second before he laid down on the linoleum, resting his head on his paws and abandoning his dinner. 

Jason frowned as he added cheese and put the last piece of bread down, and frowned harder when Titus suddenly stood up and swiped at his other ear, tilting his head to the side and back again, panting. He slid his plate to the side and followed Titus into the living room where he curled up tight in the bed Damian put by the tv. Jason watched him, standing behind the couch with his arms crossed and still clutching the throw around his shoulders. After only a second he got up again, turning in a circle, still panting.

And why was he panting? It wasn’t hot. There was no way the dog was hot. 

It was about then that Jason realized what this was. When Titus once again swiped at his ear and let out the same pathetic, breathy whine that had woken him up from his nap. A noticeable tremor ran through the dog’s shoulders, and he stepped out of the bed and sat on the carpet, panting and, now obviously to Jason, in pain.

“Shit. _Shit.”_ He came over and knelt down, running a hand over Titus back. He breathed that same whine and shook his head again and Jason felt like the biggest asshole on the planet.

He sat there, petting him, wondering what he was supposed to do now that he had already screwed this up. Now that Titus was whining, and panting, and trembling and it was completely his stupid idiot fault.

Jason remembered suddenly, while rubbing hands up and down Titus’ sides, trying to warm him up from the rib cage out, having ear infections as a little kid. Walking home from the school bus in the cold, the sharp spikes of pain drilling through his head until he had both hands clapped over his ears and tears running down his face. 

“Shit buddy I’m the worst.” He had no idea what to do when he finally remembered the ear drops, sitting packaged neatly on his counter still. Abandoning Titus and the throw for the briefest moment he hurried back to the kitchen and grabbed the paper bag, tearing it open and pulling out a small glass vial with a dropper. He spared a split second to read the directions - three drops in each ear, massage in, done.

“Perfect, easy, can do.” Titus had followed him into the kitchen, apparently seeking the only human company available, like he was looking for help. So Jason knelt down again, opening the drops and trying, after a couple poor attempts, to angle Titus’ head so the drops would actually go in. 

He only made it to two before Titus yelped and jerked away from him, ears down, tail tucked between his legs and eyes squinting and wet.

“Oh _fuck_ Jason you idiot, they’re cold. Shit, I’m sorry. Titus, pup.” He was practically pleading, on his knees, reaching for the dog who shrunk away from him, sitting miserably on the floor with his head hung low, swiping at the ear he’d barely managed to get half a dose into. 

“I am the worst human being, scum of the _Earth,_ I am going to hell for this.” He was nearly panicked now, desperate for a way to fix his stupid, idiot mistake and just _make him feel better._ A lump was rising in his throat just looking at him, pathetic and hurt. Jason scrambled for the rest of his memory, there was more, he knew there was more.

Once he’d gotten home, what had his mom done? It was heat, that’s what helped the most. There had been these little- hot packs. Yeah, yes, that was it. 

Jason jumped to his feet, ran to his bedroom, grabbed the first pair of socks he saw out of his top drawer and rushed back into the kitchen where he jumped up onto the counter and dragged the single container of rice he had out of the cabinet above the fridge. He spilled half its contents all over the floor trying to fill each sock with enough rice to make it plump, tied knots in the ankle of both and tossed them in the microwave for a full minute. “This will work. This will fix it.” Jason mumbled to himself to cover the breathy huffs of pain coming from behind him.

He’d never felt guiltier before, it was like he’d committed mass murder. 

And Jason had done that, once.

The microwave beeped and he grabbed both, juggling them a little to disperse the heat and then went to the couch. “Titus, come here boy.” He called, trying to sound friendly and not like he might cry. “Come here, It’ll make you feel better I promise, no more drops, no more cold.” He whistled lightly, watching over the edge of the couch as Titus slunk back into the room and hovered at the end of the couch.

“Up, come on.” He patted the couch cushion and Titus finally hopped up, tail still tucked down and shaking all over. Jason wasted no time, he scooted all the way to Titus, patting his legs and pushing lightly on the dogs shoulders until he folded down across his lap and he could press a heated sock to each ear. The effect wasn’t immediate, but Titus seemed to appreciate it anyway. He twisted his head around and stuck his nose in the crook of Jason’s elbow when he finally stopped panting.

“There we go, there we go.” Jason whispered, a distinct lump in his throat he had to swallow against. “I’m so sorry bud, I am the _worst._ I will do better. I will do so much better than this tomorrow.” He felt the little puffs of breath against his arm, watching as the dogs eyes slipped closed and he finally stopped trembling, slowly, but surely. 

Jason slumped forward, tipping his head down until it rested on Titus’ side, breathing quietly. His chest felt tight and hot and he was such an _idiot._ He felt awful. 

Abruptly, he felt like such an asshole about the text messages. ‘Cause yeah, what the hell Jason, he was apparently entirely the worst at taking care of dogs. Why was that surprising though really? He couldn’t take care of himself so why would this be different?

“Hey, I know,” Jason mumbled to himself, “just make the dog wait until he’s about to wet himself and then take him outside in the freezing damp weather with a double ear infection lacking the exact item that was designed for this _specific_ issue.” 

He felt intensely, dramatically, like such a screwup. He couldn’t even take care of a damn dog. And lord, Bruce had remembered that Jason always wanted one.

That had caught him totally off guard, because it was true, but Jason barely remembered it until he said it. It took digging around in the back of his mind to pull up the memories.

He shouldn’t have even been wondering about Bruce, shouldn’t be hoping or looking for hints or anything else because if there was something there, and there wasn’t, Jason would just screw it up like he screwed up everything else.

  
  


*

  
  
Jason woke up early. He wasn’t entirely sure why he would have set his alarm for seven in the morning until he remembered the massive dog sleeping in his living room.

He got up slow, but made himself move. He’d gone on a very short patrol the night before, after making sure Titus ears were feeling better and that he wouldn’t be nervous with him gone. When he came back that night he found him wagging his tail from the giant dog bed that Damian had set up.

It felt weirdly nice, to have somebody happy to see him at home. But it also just made him feel guilty after he’d spent forty five minutes holding hot packs to the pup’s ears because he’d been too much of a lazy know-it-all to use the ear muff thing Damian had brought along.

Now Jason was methodical. First he dumped the premeasured cup of dog food in the bowl in the corner of his kitchen, which finally got Titus out of bed. Then he dumped the old water and filled it with fresh. Next he grabbed the ear drops off the counter and read the label carefully, spent a minute looking up on the internet if warming them up would somehow take away from their actual purpose and found some kind of mommy blog with very specific directions. So he ended up doing the rest of his own morning routine with the the little bottle clutched tightly in his left hand so it wouldn’t be so cold by the time he was administering them.

When the time came, the dog wasn’t too happy with getting the ear drops but at least it didn’t seem to hurt him. He just shook his head back and forth a few time and then rubbed his whole body across the back of Jason’s couch, leaving a thin line of drool behind. Jason deserved it, he decided. 

Then he put on the stupid water proof coat, and the doggy ear muffs, which Titus suffered through admirably, latched the leash onto his collar and nodded to himself.

This time he thought things would go much smoother.

But when they stepped out of the building there were more people than Jason had anticipated, which always pit him a little on edge. Ever since the league crowds had made him nervous. He’d find himself scanning the area for threats constantly, looking for the one person who might just be able to hold their own against him. He thought it was the fighting pits, when Tahlia would throw him in with any number of people, when he had to learn to prioritize threats like never before.

Pick off the strong while you’re still at your peak performance. It was a lesson he learned quickly.

He took a deep breath, forcefully diverting his eyes to the sidewalk and letting people move past them. It was just the working crowd. No threats. His grip on the leash was tight and he forced his hand to loosen, found Titus standing still, right in front of him, looking back, waiting like this was completely normal. Jason cleared his throat, swallowed hard and pushed himself into the moving mass of people congregating on corners and at crosswalks. It was easier with Titus there to focus on, making sure he wasn’t getting in people’s way, or being overly friendly and frightening some little kid. He ignored the small twinge of shame at needing a dog to make taking a walk easier.

Titus pissed on every corner of the building, which was kind of funny, until he started to crap next to a fire hydrant and Jason realized he didn’t grab any of those stupid poop bags Damian had left. 

They were literally standing ten feet from a bus stop and there were at least five people waiting, but Jason didn’t look up or make eye contact when he went and left a huge, steaming pile of dog crap on the sidewalk. Ok so, he’d remember that one next time too. He could practically feel the heat of people’s glares as he slunk back to his apartment. Titus didn’t seem to care one bit and was happy as a clam when they climbed back up the six flights of stairs. Jason was too, he very nearly crawled back into bed when they got back inside.

It was earlier than he was ever actually awake and his sleep quality was...never great. But after walking around the block in the brisk cold he was alert enough he knew it’d take a while to fall asleep again and his stomach was growling. So instead he dug around in his fridge and made himself some eggs and toast, took it to the couch and enjoyed it at the coffee table.

Titus, for his part, did some lazy walks around the apartment, sniffing along the walls just like he had the day before, refamiliarizing himself with the place, Jason figured. Or maybe he was looking for something. Eventually he found his way back to his bed, where he grabbed a large stuffed hot dog (honestly, Jason was gonna have to tease the kid) and just held it in his mouth when he spun around and laid back down. 

It was....kind of really freaking cute. And then he scooted around and stood back up to dig in the bed, turned a coup circles, laid back down and immediately rolled on his back, feet in the air, head flipping over one side of the bed. all with the hotdog toy still in his mouth. Jason couldn’t quite resist it, he pulled out his phone and snapped a picture.

He stared at it for a minute, a tug of guilt pulling at him. Without thinking on it too hard he opened his texts and sent it to Damian. He had no idea what time it was in London but he figured the kid was probably still jet lagged and wouldn’t respond for a while, so it was a surprise when he was putting his last bite of eggs in his mouth and his phone vibrated on the table next to him. 

He picked it up warily, thinking it must be Dick or somebody else, but nope, it was the demon bird himself.

_Damian:  
Did you give him his ear drops? Is he eating? I have read that stress in animals can cause stomach upset._

Jason rolled his eyes, feeling simultaneously annoyed and amused.

_Jason:  
You’re welcome_

Somebody needed to teach that kid some manners.

It was a few minutes later, when he’d gotten up and been washing his plate that his phone vibrated one more time.

_Damian:  
Thank you,_

_Did you give him his ear drops? Is he eating? I have read that stress in animal can cause stomach upset._

Jason couldn’t help but snort as he glanced at Titus, who was still laying spread eagle in his bed, feet in the air and hotdog hanging out of his mouth but now his eyes were closed, like he was in some kind of doggy heaven.

It had never been in Jason’s nature to be easy, or let people off the hook. He kept this in mind as he typed out his reply.

_Jason:  
Nah, threw away the ear drops, I’m more of a natural remedies guy. Not sure if he’s eating, I just tore a hole in the bag and I’m leaving him to it._

He watched the tiny dots at the bottom of the screen that told him Damian was typing a reply, wondering if the kid could even take a joke.

_Damian:  
That is not funny._

Jason grinned to himself, he hated to disagree but...

_Jason:  
Imagining your face was though_

There were the little dots blinking on the screen again, but they just kept going until a few minutes went by and they stopped but no message came through. And then Jason thought about Titus out without the head warmer on, how he couldn’t even sit still his ears hurt so bad and he just felt like an asshole again.

He sat forward on the couch and stared at his phone before he finally started typing out another message.

_Jason:  
Titus is good. He’s eating fine, I gave him the drops last night and this morning. He seems normal._

He didn’t mention forgetting the head warmer, or that he’d only managed to get the drops in one ear. Not even when Damian replied again a moment later.

_Damian:  
Do his ears seem to be bothering him?_

Jason cringed and tapped his fingers on the side of his phone, still guilty and feeling stupid over the whole thing.

_Jason:  
They were bothering him a little last night, but they seem ok right now. Still really itchy._

And he watched Titus after he sent the message, wondering how he could be so relaxed in this new place with this stranger he’d never really met. Wondered where Damian even got a Great Dane and how the kid ended up being such an animal lover in the first place. It definitely seemed out of character considering what else he knew of the kid.

But Jason was a little street rat and he’d loved animals too. Even when he was getting chased down by pimp’s and gang’s guard dogs he never lost the want. It was weird to think about, after Bruce had said it, when Jason had realized it was true. How could he have forgotten that? It wasn’t like he’d stopped liking dogs. Making the effort to remember was like looking through an old dirty window, squinting at the details. It was hard but he could still make them out. 

He remembered feeding strays if he ever had anything extra, and even sometimes when he didn’t if they were friendly. There wasn’t a lot to daydream about as a kid on the streets, nothing that didn’t leave you with a bitter pit in your empty stomach. But there were small things, like finding an extra good and out of the way shelter. Discovering an abandoned apartment with no other squatters, finding a new pair of shoes in the bargain bins outside the second hand store - and having a dog.

There was a particular old stray Jason had liked, some kind of mutt that was on the smaller side, walked with a limp, skittish, but eager for affection. He’d always wanted to win her over, get her to like him so she’d come when he called or even follow him around. Sometimes a dog was better company than other people out on the streets. 

Well, and maybe other places too. 

He’d always hoped, but as soon as Jason started trying to keep her in one place she’d disappear for a few days. Jason got that, other people’s expectations made him nervous too. 

And then he’d met Bruce.

He’d never seen the dog again. 

Instead he distracted himself with new fantasies, bigger ones that seemed entirely possible in a world where you could be adopted by one of the richest men in the world who also turned out to be a superhero. Nothing seemed impossible then.

The desire for a dog hadn’t gone away though. Jason distinctly remembered wheedling Bruce repeatedly.

_“I can handle it! I’ve got plenty of responsibility, I’m Robin!”_

And then Bruce went on in that patient, droning way he’d had.

_“Yes, you have plenty of responsibility right now, you don’t need anymore right this minute. Just...wait until you get a little older.”_

Jason had pouted about it, until he had found a photo of Bruce as a kid with a huge dog with a tag that read Ace. (A really freaking stupid name for a dog, Jason thought) and he’d confronted him about it.

_Bruce sighed and set down the book he was holding, picking up the framed picture and looking at it with attentive eyes._

_“Yes, I had a dog when I was younger, but it got sick when I was about twelve years old. We had to put it to sleep. It...was difficult.”_

And then Jason sort of got it, and he stopped asking after that.

But now Damian had all these pets and Jason just wondered about it. Maybe it was a real son kind of thing. 

Or maybe not. Not like it mattered.

  
  


*

  
  


Gotham had been relatively quiet in recent times, which seemed...not quite bad, but always made Jason nervous. It wasn’t supposed to be quiet in places like Gotham, all quiet meant to Jason was that he was probably missing something.

It was going around and around in his head that night as he debated whether or not to go on patrol.

Things had been...weird.

Jason had been working under this “No Killing” rule for nearly six months.

Initially he had taken the deal with Batman almost as a joke.

But Jason had been in a good mood. Willing to give the whole thing a chance. It wasn’t like Red Hood was some kind of blood thirsty monster, and Jason could admit that he’d probably accomplish more if Batman and the rest of his _colony_ weren’t trying to stop him around every turn.

It wasn’t like he had high hopes for reconnecting with the _family._ It hadn’t even entered into his mind that not killing the bad guys would somehow induct him back into the group. No, Jason would go along with Bruce as long as it worked for _him_ and if it stopped being worth it then oh well. Not like it was a big loss.

They’d spent moths and years fighting, going back and forth between enemies, to allies of necessity, to something delicately more than that only to swing right back into enemy territory. 

They had been in that fragile space in between when Bruce had asked to meet with him. Not enemies, but not exactly friendly either. There were things Jason didn’t allow himself to want. Bruce’s friendship or anything more than that was one of them but it didn’t mean there weren’t things to be gained from the partnership. Nor that there weren’t things to be lost by refusing it. 

There would always be people who deserved to die, sure. But Jason wasn’t sure he was willing to kill himself to make the point anymore.

He had gotten in the game way back as a kid because he’d wanted to help people. He’d dreamed of cleaning up the alley and making sure the working girls were safe and willing, and that the homeless kids had places to go, and hopefully in the long run, places to stay, way back when he’d first become Robin.

When Jason came back from the pit, those things had seemed like a distant and faded memory. He’d put all he had into revenge instead. He’d made the fight, the killing, about him. He’d killed people to make a point.

Sure they deserved to die. But that’s not why he did it.

He wasn’t so proud of that anymore and the further he got from that part of his life the more he’d wondered if that was....if that had all been him.

It was impossible for Jason not to admit that directly after the pit - he’d been unstable, maybe slipping towards insane. But in short order his thoughts had become intelligible again and he’d gained back control of himself.

At least he’d thought so.

It always felt like he was in control. It felt like his thoughts and feelings guiding him forward. And then Bruce had told him he could keep working in the city, with his blessing, if he agreed not to kill anyone. It was annoying but he’d never thought it would be hard.

Parts of it, sure.

He had to be so damn careful when he wasn’t planning on killing anyone. Every fight took longer, was more tiring, more _irritating._ Not to mention in the first little while he’d made a number of embarrassing mistakes, shooting his enemies with rubber bullets and forgetting that didn’t mean they were down for good. Being surprised when someone he’d shot a minute before was suddenly back in the fray.

And then there was the mess of needing _proof_ of things before the police would arrest someone. The kind of proof it could take weeks to get even while knowing definitively that a drug dealer was guilty, it didn’t matter. He had to be able to _prove it_ to the police or the guy would be out in 48 hours, at it again.

None of this meant the Red Hood couldn’t properly punish someone he knew was guilty, even if he had no real proof. But it was a hell of a handicap in his line of work and while he didn’t exactly resent the new leash he had allowed Batman to slip on him, sometimes he found himself regretting the agreement. But he steadfastly held to the deal anyway, because regretting not killing people because it was _harder_ was not a good enough reason to go back on it.

The point was Jason had anticipated these new challenges, but other things...were a surprise. The first time he’d felt the Lazarus green flare up in his chest after sparing someone he hadn’t thought much of it. It happened occasionally.

But the longer he’d been going without a kill to his name the more insistent the urges were becoming. 

It was also a large part of why he hadn’t gone back on the deal.

It was part of why he cut his patrols short, why he hadn’t worked any deep cases in a long time because knowing the details made it even worse. It was hard enough to spare the life of a child trafficker without knowing they like to sample the goods.

He’d never told anyone, and didn’t plant to. It would wear off, just like it had the first time. Jason just had to wait it out and he didn’t need all of them second guessing his every move in the mean time.

Some days were better than others but the flash of the fighting pits that morning put him enough on edge that in the end, he’d sided with staying in. Even if skipping out so much left him with a lingering sense of guilt.

And hey, Bruce was right after all, he’d always wanted a dog so he might as well enjoy it while it lasted.

So he made himself dinner, something good, from scratch that he could keep on hand for after patrol snacks on other days. He dug through his kitchen and settled on fajitas, easy but delicious and good leftovers. He took Titus on a third walk that evening just before he ate.

He watched Titus fling one of his toys around a little while he ate and thought maybe he’d take him to a dog park the next day instead of just walking around the block a couple times. The whole point was that he needed the exercise wasn’t it? He was friendly and it was something for Jason to do in the middle of the day when he’d normally be knee deep in research for a case. So he read up on local ones and found one not too far away that was an off leash park where he could throw the ball for Titus and get him some decent exercise. The demon would probably even be happy about it.

When it was nearing the time he’d normally be leaving for patrol he perused his bookshelves, picked out an old favorite, made himself a mug of tea and laid out on the couch with the new blanket draped over his lower half and read. Tried not to think about the people on the streets that might need him, that he could be leaving without protection while he was lounging somewhere comfortable and warm.

It felt lazy, after everything he’d done and been through.

But he wasn’t Batman. He knew his limits, he knew when he should back off and take a break and so that was that. He didn’t think about it.

He tried to absorb himself in the story, and managed a little, until about ten minutes later when there was a heavy shift in weight on the couch and Jason looked up from his book to find Titus carefully placing his feet around his legs.

“What do you think you’re- _Oof-“_ His breath wheezed out of him in a rush as Titus’ full weight came down on his gut, all balanced on one small foot. _“You’re crushing me, what are you doing?”_ Another two steps and the dog was suddenly settling down, shoving his hands and book out of the way. Titus’ whole body rested on top of Jason’s. Nose reaching all the way up to his collar bone, front paws tucked in next to his head, the rest of him a solid, heavy weight down his front with lower legs resting between Jason’s. He gasped out a laugh and wished his phone was within reach, he’d get another picture to send to Damian.

Titus huffed out a very soft growl and Jason settled a hand on his head, scratching at his itchy ears while he turned his head from side to side and whipped his tail against the soft leather of the couch. 

“You do this to the kid too? You’re bigger than he is, you’d break his ribs.” Titus only let out a pleased little grumble at the ear scratches before Jason finished with a pat to the side of his neck and attempted to find a comfortable place to settle his book and read with the dog on top of him. It was an oddly comfortable weight, even if his bony little elbows were jutting into his rib cage and his lungs felt mildly compressed. The little warm puffs of air on the backs of his hands when he finally set the book in front of Titus’ nose, uncomfortably close to his face, were kind of...nice too. 

Jason hadn’t gone to sleep before two in the mornin in he couldn’t even remember how long, but it was just nearing midnight when he started to nod off. Titus weight and body heat made him weirdly drowsy. The words on the page blurred in front of him multiple times before he finally slipped a bookmark in the page he could last actually remember and set it on the coffee table next to him. Then he rested his hands on either side of Titus’ head and closed his eyes, letting himself just fall asleep. He’d regret it later when he woke up in the middle of the night with his neck killing him or Titus crushing his sternum while getting down off the couch, but for the time being, he felt oddly relaxed. 

He was out before he knew it.

The dream that night was not a new one. Not that they ever were, but it did start more abruptly than he was used to.

  
  


*

  
  


He opened his eyes in the dark and blinked and blinked. The air around him was hot and stale and Jason had no idea where he was or how he got there, but it was cramped and he couldn’t move his arms above his head and his heart was pounding so loud it was all he could hear. There wasn’t enough air, his elbows kept slamming into the sides of the box he was in and he was crying, panicking, in seconds. Clawing at the barrier above him until his nails were torn and bleeding. His only rational thought came when he managed to slip his belt off, when he started tearing at the exposed wood of the coffins with the buckle, mindless, angry, terrified, it was all he could do to keep moving so he didn’t just lay down and die again.

Splintered chips of wood cut up his hands but the sting was nothing compared to the frantic adrenaline pumping through him. All at once the weakened wood gave way and then Jason was sputtering and coughing up soil that was collapsing in -

Something cold and wet touched his cheek and he blinked his eyes open to a dimly lit apartment and Titus’ big head right in his face. He nosed at his chin and whined and Jason groaned, shoving his face away and feeling his skin crawl. He tried to push the dog off and Titus went without complaint, jumping to the floor with only one well placed kick to Jason’s bladder.

He laid there, staring at the ceiling and counting his breaths. Titus licked his hand and Jason jerked upright, startled, and swallowed. The dog sat down on the floor but pressed himself to the side of the couch, shoved his head in Jason’s lap and he focused on that, on the soft, velvet like fur under his fingers when he rubbed them across the bony head.

“I’m fine.” He whispered to the dog, like Titus was worried about him or something. “Thanks for waking me up.” He could just see the whites of the dog’s eyes flash when he glanced up at him, like he was really listening. “The rest of that dream is...not good.” 

He drew in a deep breath, felt like his lungs were still compressed and counted himself an idiot for not realizing sleeping with a weight on his chest would drag up those particular memories.

“My fault.” He felt boneless. “Sorry I scared you.” Titus lifted his head and got a solid lick to Jason’s face before he managed to jerk back, where he got a face full of dog breath that had him suppressing a gag. _“Christ.”_ He shoved his snout the other direction, felt a slightly hysterical laugh bubble up in his chest. “You are really something, you know that?”

Jason sat there for a little while longer, letting his breathing even out and scratching at Titus’ ears and down his neck. His bladder was dying for relief and he finally levered himself up off the couch and shuffled to the bathroom. Listened to Titus’ claws clicking across the linoleum of the kitchen floor when he went for a drink.

Exhaustion pulled at him, even after the dream, now that his heart rate was back down to normal and instead of pulling out a book or the headphones or watching stupid aimless YouTube video’s on his phone like he might normally, he crawled into his bed and laid on his stomach, face pressed into a pillow. He could feel himself drifting back off and had a minor twinge of fear that the dream would just start back up again - but then he felt the weight on the mattress shift and Titus’ pad up next to him, settling himself on the lower half of the bed, half curled up. He set his chin on the back of Jason’s leg and there was the weird sensation of the dog swallowing. He was out before he had another moment to worry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: An animal in pain.
> 
> Also a VERY brief mention of child trafficking
> 
> If you want to skip the animal part jump from “Titus came into the kitchen, to eat his own dinner” and begin reading again after “Jason slumped forward, tipping his head down until it rested on Titus’ side”
> 
> A basic overview: after Jason hurried Titus out for his walk and forgot the head warmer Titus ears act up from the cold and hurt quite badly, Jason feels awful, makes some hot packs by pouring rice into socks and microwaving them and then holds them to Titus’ ears until he’s back to normal. 
> 
> ————————
> 
> Thank you for reading! Please leave a comment if you enjoyed :) Sorry again this chapter didn’t have more people in it....it does pick up a little in coming chapters.


	4. All the cracks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A trip to the dog park that really doesn’t go as planned followed by a patrol that similarly, does not go as planned. Jason should know better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please see end notes for specific warnings, there are a few this chapter.
> 
> Extra long update this week. Couldn’t find a better place to end it so, bonus I guess!

The dog park, in the end, was nicer than Jason expected. Even though it was small, it had some nice rolling hills, a couple benches set up at different points next to small maple trees that looked like they must have been planted in the last couple years, still waiting to grow big enough to offer any real shade. They were naked now, fall being in full swing.

It was still flipping cold and there was a light drizzle that was just uncomfortable, even with the hood of his jacket drawn up. Titus didn’t seem too happy about it either but he had his waterproof coat on and the head warmer so he wasn’t bothered so much by the cold. He let Jason cajole him into playing catch at least and ran freely after the tennis ball.

After a bit he seemed to get bored with it though and was more interested in the other dogs, so Jason let him roam without thinking much of it. He looked like a big dumb idiot in his getup. It just made him look more friendly and less intimidating though so Jason counted it as a win and happily snapped a picture of Titus sniffing some Labrador’s butt.

“Real polite bud.” Jason mumbled under his breath as he let his eyes scan over the milling group of people. He didn’t mean to be doing it, didn’t even realize he was looking for threats until he spotted one. 

There were two men standing stock still next to one of the benches, a large Rottweiler sitting next to them with a spiked collar on a thick, black, leather leash. The guys didn’t look tough so much as they looked _mean_ and Jason could see them watching the dogs, eyeing each one almost critically, staring at Titus for longer than he liked. He didn’t even really know what he was looking at but he didn’t like it, could feel the hair on the back of his neck stand up like some sort of sixth sense. 

“Titus!” He let out a loud whistle, clapping his hands to draw the dog’s attention. He trotted back over easily, abandoning the dog he’d been attempting to greet. Jason grabbed his collar when he approached and latched the leash back on while keeping an eye on the two thug looking guys who were now walking slowly in their direction. Jason tried to get a good look at them without making it obvious.

One was tall and thin, a shaved head and a nose that looked like it had been broken on a few different occasions. His eyes were half lidded, he looked bored, and with a brief direct glance he spotted a deep scar on the back of his hand. Raised and red skin in a curved line that looked distinctly like an animal bite if Jason had to guess. 

The other one was heavy set, broad in the shoulders but average height, close cropped, dark brown hair and a chunk missing out of one of his ears. Sharp eyes that were focused directly on Titus. He was the one holding the leash. 

And the dog was the other thing.

Every other dog in the park just seemed happy. Either excited and playing or relaxed. Tails wagging, panting, running around or just lazing about near their owners. There was one half grown mutt on the other side of the park that was being trained, learning how to sit and stay. 

The Rottweiler walking next to this man didn’t look happy, or friendly, or excited. It was big, moved gracefully, didn’t seem to be in any sort of hurry but was looking at Titus and Jason both with eyes that Jason could only think to describe as...empty. If you could even think something like that about a dog. 

They were only ten feet away when Jason tugged on Titus’ leash, ready to get the hell out of there before something nasty happened. And maybe he’d gotten rusty but he was just a little too slow.

Just as they turned around the broad shouldered man stooped down and unhooked the Rottweiler’s leash, said something sharp to the dog that he didn’t catch and suddenly - the dog lunged.

Jason had been in more fights than he could count, or remember, ones where his life was on the line. There was nothing quite like having 140 pounds of solid muscle barreling toward you with a snarl like you’d never heard, teeth bared and ready for sinking. 

Titus immediately pulled hard on the leash, and Jason moved without thinking. It was reflex more than training that had him throw an arm out, right in the path of the big black dog. The tall thin guy shouted something just as teeth clamped down on his forearm, sinking through his leather jacket and to his skin and beyond. 

_“Shit!”_ Jason shouted, throwing his other hand out, he dropped the leash, grabbed at one of the dog’s ears and yanked hard, but the clamp down did not loosen. If anything it tightened and the dog let out a guttural growl. Jason was swearing up a storm, stumbling and nearly falling on his ass trying to pull his arm out of the vice it was crushed in. He’d never been bitten by a dog before, at least not beyond a warning snap, and it friggin’ _hurt._

The short guy was suddenly there, clapping his hands, he shouted at the dog again.

 _“Drop it!”_ And Jason’s arm was abruptly free, he actually tripped and fell, feeling light headed and instantly furious. 

Skinny guy had a hand around the Rot’s collar, holding him in place even though he was already sitting down, looking business as usual like nothing even happened when there was _blood dripping_ out of its mouth. _Jason’s blood._

 _“What the fuck is wrong with you?!”_ Jason hauled himself to his feet, standing just as tall as the skinny guy and broader in the chest than the heavyset one. He looked wide eyed and nervous, in contrast to his tall friend, who just seemed mildly surprised. 

“Holy shit man, I’m so sorry, he just _lunged!”_ The short guy stuttered out, fumbling to get the leash back on the dog.

“You expect me to believe that was the _dog?_ I wasn’t born yesterday asshole.” He stepped toward the stocky one but the Rot took a step to meet him, letting out a low growl of warning.

“Whoa, Crusher _no.”_ He swallowed harshly, glanced back at the tall one, who’d let go of the collar as soon as the leash was attached.

 _“Crusher?_ Are you serious?”

“I’m so sorry man, really, I didn’t exp- he’s never done anything like that before.” Jason doubted it, wanted, badly, to spit in the guy’s face.

“Chris, why don’t you take Crusher to the car? I can take it from here.” Guy had an accent like he was from the West Coast, words clear and almost overly pronounced. He had one hand stuffed in the pocket of his coat, the other holding a lit cigarette. 

“Sure, yeah. I’ll uh, I’ll get him out of the park, just find me when you’re done.” Chris looked distinctly relieved to be out of the conversation.

Jason was reeling, what in the actual fuck just happened? what was this? The short one had clearly given the dog some kind of command.

His instincts told him not to let the guy leave, to stop him in his path and get answers, but the dog was still a threat and Jason wasn’t in costume. He didn’t have any armor on and his identity was not hidden. He needed to be careful. His mind also finally registered the ear splitting sound of frantic barking from a large dog. The realization that he hadn’t seen where Titus went hit him like a slap to the face.

He whipped his head around, feeling frantic for a split second before he spotted him Some twenty feet away, some random bystander holding his leash wrapped around a hand. It was a short woman, middle aged, and with a fat bulldog of some kind standing behind her. She looked stricken, face pale. Titus was pulling pretty hard on the leash and barking in a high pitched tone that definitely wasn’t natural to him, a near whine to it. But the woman stood her ground, feet planted hard.

Jason was distracted enough that the guy was already shuffling away, the Rottweiler following at a matched pace. He should go after the guy, wanted very badly to go after him but he couldn’t leave some random woman with Titus, who was obviously frantic and upset. 

Jason eyed Tall Guy, still standing there and watching him, expectant and bored look on his face, and decidedly turned his back on him to handle Titus. The guy wasn’t a threat, not to him, even if he had a weapon his posture was slouched, feet planted sloppily, his balance wasn’t solid. He was obviously not trained to fight and Jason could take him in a heartbeat if he felt the need. He had to get his head back on straight before he talked to him though. There was a heat curling in his stomach with a distinctive green tinge that Jason needed to get a handle on before he killed the guy in broad daylight. 

He marched up to the woman with the bulldog, tucking his bleeding arm in close to his side. Fuming, and furious, he was totally struck dumb like he couldn’t ever remember being. Jason almost wondered if they knew who he was. Why else would they randomly sick a dog on him?

“Are you alright?” the woman asked when he approached, eyebrows drawn up in the middle.

“Fine.” He tried not to snap at her, since she was literally the only reason Titus probably hadn’t either run away or gotten in a fight with that dog, but he was so tightly wound it was hard to keep the edge out of his voice. “Thank you for grabbing him.”

She nodded and Titus shoved into him, lifting his front half off the ground repeatedly like he wanted to jump on him, whining, ears down. “I’m fine buddy, I’m good. Stay down.” He grabbed Titus’ collar with his good hand and pulled down gently to get him to stay planted in the grass, not needing to get clawed in the arm after that.

“Are you really sure you’re alright? You’re bleeding pretty...pretty bad.” She sounded a little breathless, as she finally relinquished Titu’s leash. She grabbed at her ponytail with her now free hand and tugged.

“I’ve had worse.” He was too busy looking over the dog to making sure there were no injuries he’d missed that he didn’t see how she reacted to his little confession. The head warmer had fallen down and he carefully tucked it back up over Titus’ ears, while trying to even out his breathing.

“That was pretty nuts man.” Jason stiffened and turned back, Tall Guy was standing there, taking a long drag off a cigarette. “Why jump in like that? Your dog looks like he could hold his own in a fight.” And he was staring at Titus when he said it, eyes still bored, as they flicked up to meet Jason’s. He felt his shoulders hitching up.

“We should really call the police.” The woman interjected. “That is dangerous, we need to-“

“No police.” Jason snapped just as Tall guy said, “I don’t really think that’s necessary.”

“Not _necessary?”_ Her voice was sharp. “Your dog just attacked this man, he’s _bleeding,_ he could have a broken bone or-“

“Nothing’s broken lady.” She snapped her eyes over, looking at him like he was nuts. Probably not far off the mark.

“Regardless, I’m calling the police.” She reached in her purse, hanging off her shoulder, and pulled out a cell phone. This was not good - the last thing Jason needed was to be questioned by the police while Bruce was out of town, even if he was the victim, he didn’t need Barbara recognizing his fake ID in a police report and pulling this whole incident up. 

He also didn’t know why any of this just happened, and if somehow this guy knew who he was...he didn’t want a civilian mixed up in that.

“Look lady.” He snapped at her, feeling guilty for the way she flinched. “I appreciate the concern but I’d rather handle this myself.” He put a hint of threat in his voice, for both her and the asshole’s sake. Jason knew what he looked like, big, broad shouldered and well built, standing there with a huge dog. “I don’t really think you wanna be involved.”

Her eyes darted between Jason and Tall Guy, like maybe she wanted to argue, but was quickly thinking better of it. She clutched her own dog’s leash in a fisted grip, expression morphing to wary suspicion.

“Fine. Guess I’ll find a new park.” She snapped, before turning on her heel and marching away, Bulldog waddling behind.

Smart lady, Jason thought as he watched her go, finally turning back to the guy who was just standing there, enjoying his cigarette without a care in the world.

“Mind telling what the frack this was all about?” The guy raised his eyebrows, seeming completely unphased by Jason’s thinly veiled threat a moment ago.

“Just an accident. Here, take my info.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a business card that he held out, nothing printed on it but a phone number. Jason stared at it. “I’d be happy to cover your medical bills for that arm.” He nodded to Jason’s left forearm, still held tightly against his body. Jason plucked the card from his hand, eyeing it for a split second before crumpling it into a ball and flicking it back at the guy. He watched it bounce off the front of his jacket and settle in the damp grass at their feet.

“Real generous of you.” The guy smirked. 

“Suit yourself.”

Jason squinted at him, waiting for some kind of hint. “We met before?”

“Oh I doubt it.” He took a drag off the cigarette. “I’d remember your dog if we had.” He looked around Jason then, at where Titus was standing, tight up against the backs of his legs.

Jason took a step forward, fed up. “What the hell do you want? You think I’m stupid? Your friend there sicked that dog on us, I _saw_ it. you-“ Jason cut himself off, felt Titus nudging at the back of his leg. He gave a low bark, quiet and unhappy. Jason didn’t want to make any hints if the guy didn’t know anything.

Hell this was _Gotham._ Nut jobs did insane shit like sick their dogs on people all the time. The difference being they didn’t usually seem so casually unrepentant and unafraid of the police showing up.

Tall Guy raised his hands in mock surrender. “Hey now, if you hadn’t jumped in, I promise you he never would have bitten.”

“Oh, cause you’ve done this before? Is that it?”

“I don’t know what you mean, didn’t do anything, this was all just an accident. Crusher can get aggressive around other big dogs. And that is one big dog.”

“Is this seriously about Titus?” Jason was recalculating the idea that this idiot might know who he was. He chuckled.

“Titus, good name for him. He looks tough.” Jason stared, feeling a muted sort of astonishment at the idiocy in the world. Whatever this was, he wanted no part in it. 

“You know what, you can get lost.” Jason started to turn away, he didn’t need to tug on the leash, Titus was happy to take the lead.

The sound of rushed footsteps had him turning back just in time to see the guy reaching towards Titus. There was a flash of the red tip of a cigarette and Jason lashed out before he could think better of it. 

Leash still in his hand, he struck with his bad arm, snatching up the guys wrist and twisting hard and fast until he couldn’t keep up the nonchalant act anymore.

 _“Ok, ok, shit man.”_ He sunk to his knees in an instant.

“Were you just gonna fucking _burn_ my dog?” His arm was throbbing, the crushing grip he was keeping on the guy’s wrist making the pain flare like a _bitch_ along with a hot, swelling aggression up his spine. Blood dripped down his arm in thick rivulets, down his hand, ruining is jacket and the asshole’s alike.

_“Hey, hey, I just thought he looked tough-“_

_“So you thought you’d test your theory?!”_ His grip was entirely too tight, he could feel the Lazarus bubbling up in him, everything in his vision taking on that increasingly green hue.

 _“Hey, honestly man, I’m trying to do you a favor-“_ His voice came out in a high pitched whine.

_“You deadshit-“_

_“You like to bet? I can make you a fortune if he’s as mean as he looks.”_ He was on his knees, gasping out the words, gripping the wrist Jason held in his fist desperately with his other hand, eyes wide in obvious fear. He choked, color crawling up his neck. _“Please man-“_

Jason didn’t make the decision to break the guy’s wrist, but it happened just then anyway, his grip so tight that when he tensed at the statement - it was enough. 

He gasped, _“Shit man!”_

_“You’re lucky I don’t kill you.” _Jason was shaking as he hissed out the words, skin hot. He felt the urge come up, the pulse rack through him.__

____

____

Titus let out a high pitched whine, drawing back on his leash hard.

Jason let go. Took a big step back, breath heaving, blinking away the green clouding his vision.

 _“What the hell man?”_ He was crying, clutching at his broken wrist with his other hand. Titus whined again, pulling on his leash enough to make Jason stumble a step after him.

He stood his ground for a second more, staring a this - this - “If I see you or your _friend_ here again you’ll leave with more than a broken wrist, you hear me?” It was hard to even form the words but they came growling out of him.

_“Man why would you-“_

_“I said do you hear me?!”_

_“Ok man, ok!”_

Jason relented, letting Titus yank him around until they were walking at a brisk pace in the opposite direction. He was still fuming, filling his lungs with deep heaving breaths, trying to rid himself of the feeling of hornets buzzing in his chest.

It took him too long to realize that Titus was leading them the wrong direction, away from his apartment. When he finally blinked back into awareness they’d gotten two blocks further away than they’d started and his bloodied arm was throbbing with every step. 

Jason directed them all the way back around the block they were on instead of turning around. Felt like he could use the exercise even while his arm hurt so bad he was hissing through his teeth. They were leaving a dripping trail of blood down the sidewalk as they went, every person they met crossing the street when they saw them coming. He felt so tightly wound it was a miracle he didn’t snap like an old guitar string.

By the time they’d traveled all the way back to Jason’s apartment Titus had gotten undeniably more exercise than required or planned and Jason felt no less angry than he had twenty minutes before. He unlatched Titus’ leash and went hunting for his first aide kit, stashed under his bathroom sink.

He was pissed about his jacket, the sleeve was completely torn up and there was blood all down it. It was a nice freaking jacket and an expensive one and when he tore it off in a huff and slung it over the edge of the bathtub he wondered briefly if Alfred could fix it...get the blood out, stitch up the torn pieces? Maybe that was asking too much but the man could be a miracle worker sometimes. Not to mention Jason was feeling almost like Alfred owed him, after the stunt with the gift, even if he’d never say so.

After getting a good look at his arm he was not happy. The skin was punctured to varying degrees of depth in a large crescent shape on his forearm, including the tender underside. There was enough blood that it took a while for the warm water running in his sink to even rinse it away enough to tell. Following with antibacterial soap hurt like shit but dog bites were prone to infection and Jason did not wanna mess with one.

He dabbed it all dry with a clean dust rag he had stashed in his hall closet, not wanting to ruin one of his actual towels with blood. It happened enough already when he came home after patrol with injuries. He was down to two good towels that didn’t have unfortunate stains. 

Then he plastered a good layer of antibacterial ointment on the whole mess and covered it with two large bandages.

He still couldn’t calm down though and he wasn’t totally sure why. At first he thought it was just the confrontation, the audacity of two assholes to sick their dog on him and Titus, but it wasn’t. 

It was the dog fights.

Nothing should surprise him anymore. Jason grew up in the alley and then on the streets. He started fighting crime before he was even a teenager. He’d _died,_ he’d come back to life, he’d been raised from a Lazarus pit, been through training like no other, done and seen things that could barely be believed.

But somehow the depravity of the human race could still shock him.

He remembered the fighting pits. It had all felt sort of far away then, outside of the deep ache in his chest that told him to _move, act, kill._ The fury like nothing he’d ever felt before or since. 

But there was fear too, the pain, the terror and violence. He remembered the twists, the random handicaps to _teach_ him how to keep going when he was on his last leg. Remembered never really knowing what would happen if he lost, just the vague dread that it would be worse than this, worse than the constant fights and the surprise attacks and the complete lack of humanity. 

Then he thought about those dogs and he just felt sick.

He found Titus in the living room, just standing in front of the couch like he’d been waiting for Jason to come out, tail hanging low but wagging slowly, unsure. He huffed out a low sigh and threw his head back, stretching his neck and wondering, for a split second, if any of the shit he did, that any of them did, in costume ever made a damn difference.

“Hey boy.” He said quietly as he shuffled back into the living room and sunk down onto the couch. “I’m not mad at you. You can relax.” He scratched at his ears when Titus followed and laid his big ol’ head in Jason’s lap, making a happy little snuffling noise.

In spite of the morning Jason felt the edge of his mouth twitch up.

  
  


*

  
  


The rest of his afternoon was taken up with some rage cleaning that would have made Alfred proud. He killed time checking the contents of his fridge, which was getting low, and cleaning some of his weapons.

He sent the photo of Titus at the park to Damian on a whim with the subtitle _‘social butterfly’_ and left it at that. He was in the bathroom trying to wash the blood out of his jacket when his phone chimed in the other room.

_Damian:  
Hilarious.  
..._

_I see you are keeping up with his rain coat and head muff but if the temperature drops below 40 degrees Fahrenheit he should wear the sweater as well._

“You little asshole.” Jason huffed to himself.

_Jason:  
YOU’RE WELCOME_

_Damian:  
..._

__

__

_Yes, Thank you._

_How is his condition?_

“His condition? Titus,” he looked up toward the dog, who had just come back from some self mandated inspection of the apartment, he perked his ears up. “What year was you’re owner born? You think he’s a vampire? He’s gotta be at least a hundred.”

_Jason:  
His “condition” is normal. Took the drops fine, still real itchy ears._

He briefly debated telling Damian about the incident with the dickwads at the park but decided against it.

He remembered going on business trips with Bruce when he was young, how he’d told himself from the beginning, because Bruce had made it clear, that for the most part he’d be bored. Bruce wasn’t going to have all that much time to spend with Jason, but he said if he wanted to come he could, and they might be able to work in a couple excursions together.

Jason had insisted he knew that, and he _had,_ but he’d ended up feeling frustrated and cooped up most of the time, his temper rising more than usual like it always did when he got restless. Trying to keep himself in check because going with Bruce was still better than being back at the manor without him and he didn’t want to be left out of the next trip.

If the kid was already debating staying home because of an ear infection he hated to think how he’d react at the thought that some asswipes were trying to recruit him for _dog fights._ He didn’t want to give him something to stress about, that he’d debate on whether he should tell Bruce about or end up doing something stupid like making his way back to Gotham alone in some misguided attempt not to bother him, all because he was way overly protective of his dog. 

_Damian:  
... ... ... ..._

The little repetitive dots that told him Damian had the text screen open just kept appearing and disappearing on repeat, nothing coming through for the longest time. Jason nearly gave up when his phone finally chimed again.

_Damian:  
Does he seem happy?_

Jason stared at the words for a long time, leaning against his kitchen counter. The weird little pang in his chest that followed was completely unexpected.

“Shit, he’s a little sap like me.”

He rubbed a hand over his face, trying to think of how to respond. Titus seemed perfectly happy to Jason, but he also just met the dog for real two days prior. He thought about what kind of answer he’d be looking for back if he was twelve and leaving his dog for an extended period, worried about him, and heavily attached.

_Jason:  
I think he’s doing good. No deep depression or anything. He’s eating, playing, trying to hog my couch anytime I sit on it._

He stopped after he sent it though, staring at Titus who had finally laid himself down in his bed after his walk through the apartment. He added one more thought and pressed send.

_Jason:  
Keeps doing loops around the apartment though. Think he’s looking for you._

Maybe it was to humor the kid, but it could be true.

_Damian:  
He does spend most of his time with me, but he could also be looking for Alfred, they are somewhat inseparable._

This one really caught him off guard.

_Jason:  
Are you serious? Alfred’s a good dog loving Englishman for sure but I always kinda thought the mess would drive him bonkers._

_Damian:  
I am referring to Alfred the cat._

Jason raised his eyebrows in disbelief, before barking out a laugh. “Alfred the cat. I’ll be damned. The kid does have a sense of humor.”

He looked up at Titus again, chin resting on the edge of the dog bed and puppy eyes looking up at him. “That it boy? You looking for your cat friend? Feeling lonely?” Titus didn’t move other than to wag his tail, slapping it noisily against the wall.

It was nearing time for another walk but the first one was long enough that Jason let it slide a little longer. He set his phone down and went back to trying to get the blood out of his jacket. He’d finally come down off the rage high, but he was still struggling to keep it that way. Something as archaic as animal fights going on in his city was not ok.

He thought about following up. But really, there was nothing to go on. If he had taken the stupid business card when it had been offered he could have used that, but he hadn’t and now he had what? The name of a dog? How many damn dogs in Gotham probably had that same stupid name?

Great, this was just great. Now he _knew_ about some sick dog fighting ring, and had absolutely no other information. Fantastic.

He kept remembering that Rottweiler. The eyes. The blank look like there was nothing there. Trained into nothing but a fighting machine, designed to obey orders and do nothing else.

Jason remembered people like that. Some of them were from the pits. Came to the league ‘cause they had nowhere else to go, just doing what they had to to keep on living, even if it meant killing, even if they hated it.

There were people in the alley like that, where Jason grew up, in gangs, or homeless like him, some of the working girls sometimes. 

“Shit.”

He’d ask around. There had to be some bad guys in the city that partook. Rarely did they ever keep their hands to a single cookie jar.

  
  


*

  
  


A large part of Jason thought he probably shouldn’t go on patrol that night.

He’d already had a flare up from the pit earlier in the day and he was still strung tight from the events that unfolded. Not to mention his busted up arm. It really fracking hurt, and his grip strength in his left hand was definitely not at its best. The muscles in his forearm were bruised to shit and probably had a little bit of tearing too. He should rest it.

But a larger part of him was dying for someone to beat the shit out of.

Another warning sign, but Jason wasn’t always the best at listening to his own advice and he didn’t want to leave the alley kids and the working girls thinking he’d abandoned them with how little he’d been around lately. He was still on their side, still around, and he wanted to keep the bad guys scared and to do that he had to show his face.

By the time he was standing on the roof of an old brownstone overlooking the alley the need for a fight was itching under his skin.

It was stupid, and reckless, and he told himself to get his head on straight but there were plenty of fights to pick in Gotham and he didn’t have to wait long before one was snapping its fingers in his face. 

Red Hood had earned the trust of the vast majority of the prostitutes in the alley way back when he’d initially shown up, back when he would admit his head was still murky with the Pit. But there were new girls always showing up, always skittish and unlikely to approach him if they had a problem. He let them be mostly, let the other girls convince them he was safe, but he kept an eye out for anyone who looked under eighteen because no way was that shit flying in the Alley. Not for any amount of time.

Low and behold, as he jumped down from the roof he’d been perched on onto a rickety fire escape, about to finish the jump to the ground, he heard voices around the corner. This in itself was in no way surprising, the place was never quiet. What was surprising and concerning all in one was that one of the voices sounded _young._ So Red Hood paused and instead of finishing his leap to the ground he shimmied to the edge of the fire escape, perched on the railing and peered around the corner to get an eye on things.

A girl, she couldn’t be more than thirteen, was standing up against the wall of the building. He couldn’t see her face in the dark, the streetlight above them long burnt out, but she was clutching at her bare arms in a white knuckle grip and holding her shoulders up to her ears. Her clothes were revealing in a very specific way that made his gut turn, surprised they could find mini skirts in sizes so small. Standing over her was a tall, thin man tugging at her elbow.

He was surprised he actually heard what they were saying over the blood rushing in his ears.

 _“Just-_ I don’t, I’ve never done-“

“Come on, I already paid, it’s not a big deal, I’ll show you what to do. You want me to complain? Cause I know Murray personally and h-“

Before he completely registered what he was doing, Jason was on the ground, boots smacking against tarmac loud enough to crack through the air like lightning. “Hey shitstain.”

Red Hood moved as he spoke and just as the guy lifted his head in surprise Jason swung. The little weasel’s glasses made a satisfying crunch under his knuckles and then he was down, out like a light.

Friggin’ pathetic. One punch and it was over.

Except that it wasn’t.

Because an old dimmed memory was slowly unraveling in the back of Jason’s mind of a girl who used to live on his block, way back before his mom died. Back when there used to be more good days than bad ones.

Her name was Darcy, she was fourteen when Jason was seven. She used to come babysit him when his mom felt good enough to go get groceries or make a trip to the laundromat. She would bring a deck of cards and they would play Go Fish and War and Slap Jack because the tv never worked and she never let him win but she woud fling herself on the floor and feign devastation whenever he beat her and Jason would laugh until he couldn’t breathe while she bemoaned his existence in a fake English accent.

But they could never pay her.

And he remembered overhearing an argument, could hear the echoing voices through the walls like they were funneling into his ears. The shrill voice of a woman, her mother, he thought, while his own was passed out on the couch. It was one of the bad days.

_“Darcy shut up! He paid and you’re pulling your damn weight, I’m not the only one who’s gotta work around here and you gotta start somewhere! He’s a nice guy ok, I’ve worked with him plenty of times, don’t fucking whine.”_

_“But I don’t-“ Her voice was tight and wavering from crying._

_“Stop being a damn baby. You think we eat for free?!”_

Jason had a flash of grabbing the john by the neck and squeezing hard enough to feel his tracheas pop under the skin. Something _hungry_ in the pit of his stomach surged and he reached for it, like his hands were moving on their own when the stifled whimper of a little girl behind him nearly had him jumping out of his skin.

He whipped around and she flinched, stumbling to the side and staring at him with wide, shining eyes. They were brown, he noted. Her hair was black, tied up in a ponytail at the nape of her neck and she was wearing cheap, dollar store lipstick and blue eyeshadow. She _couldn’t_ be more than thirteen.

He jolted forward, nothing like his usual grace, with the intent to - to _help_ but it was like his limbs were suddenly made of wood. His mouth was dry as the desert, and she made an unintelligible noise of fear and tripped backwards, landing hard on her butt.

 _“Hey, hey.”_ He choked out, raising both hands in a sign he meant no harm. He cleared his throat, “Not gonna hurt you.” But his voice came out harsh, biting. His veins were still thumping, his heart pounding so hard his brain was pulsing with it and the edge of rage that always vanished, _always,_ when he went to help a kid just - _didn’t._

He registered very clearly the this girl was terrified and had every right to be and that he was not helping one bit. But there was a foreign tug at the base of his skull to turn back around, _finish it,_ it hissed. But that wasn’t right.

That wasn’t right because even before this whole no killing debacle he never would have put a bullet in a guy’s head right front of a little kid. Jason shook his head, hard, and forced himself to move instead of looming over her.

He knelt down, knees shaking as he went, and bit his tongue before he opened his mouth again. “Hey, it’s ok, I’m here to help.” The back of his neck was hot, uncomfortable, but his voice came out normal this time, gentler.

“Y-you’re Red Hood.” He nodded, and the sound of the kid’s voice did something. Filtered through the static that was fighting to overcome his brain and pushed back the last of the Lazarus clouding up his head. The squeezing sensation around his chest vanished. He hadn’t even realized it was there until it stopped.

“That’s me.” He paused, taking in her tight, outdated miniskirt, lowcut top revealing all of nothing, and combat boots that had seen better days. Her face remained unnaturally neutral until he asked, “You wanna get out of here?”

Then her lower lip trembled, eyes shining with unshed tears, and she nodded. “Please.” So Jason took off his jacket and settled it around her shoulders because it was damn _cold_ outside and she was barely wearing anything. He had to take a steadying breath against the coiling sick in the pit of his stomach before he was ushering her around the building toward the main road.

Jason started talking, chattering about nothing, resting back on old habits he knew put people, especially kids, at ease. And at the moment, himself too. His bike was just a block down and he lead her to it, planning to take her to Leslie’s clinic. He was feeling jittery about the moment before, even while handing the girl a helmet. 

Hood swung himself on in front of her and she wrapped her skinny arms around his waist from behind before he flipped the kickstand up. It was when Jason was just pulling onto the street that the tug on the base of his skull he felt before reared up something fierce, nearly making him lose his balance and throw both himself and the kid into the street.

But he steadied, put on the gas with an unsettling flair of anxiety. The feeling faded the further away they got, leaving him with a deep seated unease in the pit of his stomach.

He left the girl with Leslie. He’d get her information from the doc later so he could check back in, make sure she was somewhere safe and not back on the street. Make sure _Murray_ didn’t find her.

Jason tried to write off the weird moment, told himself it was the bizarre flashback. Sometimes memories from _before,_ before - before he was Robin - would surprise him. But as soon as he was mounting his bike to leave the clinic he could feel his hands shaking, his breath coming in uneven puffs.

He wasn’t safe to continue and he knew it. There were ants of violence and fury crawling under his skin and if he even thought of looking into a dog fighting ring he knew he’d lose it on somebody. Couldn’t risk it.

He hated it. This awful lack of control that left him tucking his tail between his legs and riding all the way back to his bunker, leaving the Alley behind. 

By the time he was back in his apartment building the fury had shifted into shame, dragging down on his shoulders as he shuffled up the steps to his place. The key was in the lock to his apartment door when his com made a noise in his ear. He kept it on him just in case, since he was turning in so early, but the sudden contact made him tense. 

_“Hood, I’m on Ellis Street in Gotham Heights, I could use a hand if you’re not already tied up with something. Pretty sure a bank robbery’s about to go down.”_

It was Dick’s voice, low and serious, and Jason just stood there, feeling his heart rate picking back up at the request. He quickly turned the key in the lock and shoved his door open, closing it behind him as softly as he could so the com wouldn’t pick up the noise.

He couldn’t go back out. He knew that. Not for anything less than a serious emergency.

Jason pumped his left hand in and out of a fist, trying to muster a reply that wouldn’t sound as awful as he felt.

“I thought - I thought you were in Bludhaven.”

 _“Yeah, I will be the rest of the week, just filling in for the night, if you know what I mean.”_

Jason swallowed, nodding to himself. 

“Right. Sorry, bigger fish to fry tonight.” But there was a little waver at the end that he didn’t quite catch and he bit his tongue, cutting off the frustrated growl that wanted to follow.

There was a long pause before he got a response, _“Ok, no worries, nothing I can’t handle, just thought the company might be nice. I’ll let you know when I’m done if you need any help with those big fish.”_

Jason let his head fall back against the door, feeling exhausted, like a little lego house some kid went and stepped on. 

“Thanks, but I think I can handle it.” He said back through a tight throat. He was bitter all the way to the top.

 _“Ok, be safe.”_ And then the click on the other end that meant Jason could let out the compressed air in his lungs with a soft hiss as he slumped against the wall. The soft clacking of claws across his kitchen floor signaled that Titus was coming before he flicked on the light.

And there the big guy was, ears up, tail wagging, and for some reason Jason wanted to cry immediately. “Shit.” He whispered to himself, clamping his eyes shut and rubbing at his face.

Titus let out a low whuff, walked a circle around him when he stood away from the wall and prodded him in the leg with his nose. “Alright, I’m going.”

Jason should shower. He knew he should. Always did after a patrol because there was no telling what you could get on yourself without even realizing it while on the streets, but he couldn’t even must the energy. All he wanted was his bed and this stupid dog to lay his head on his stomach. 

So he shuffled into his room, threw off his shoes and pants and crawled in bed in nothing but his boxers and undershirt. He flopped over onto his back and stared at the ceiling. Titus climbed up after him in the dark and turned a few circles in the blankets before laying down next to him, grunting and huffing until he was comfortable, and then he laid his head on Jason’s hip.

Jason put a hand on his head, still staring at the ceiling, breathing shallow. He felt guilty then, on top of the shame.

He couldn’t even help out on a damn bank robbery, even when Dick asked. Every stupid thought he’d ever had about being the screw up of the family was rearing its ugly head. No wonder they didn’t want him around, he thought, when he was like this. It was no wonder they didn’t trust him. How could they? He couldn’t be _relied on,_ not like this. 

He didn’t even trust himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS for this chapter: The “medium level violence” I tagged comes in here. 
> 
> There is a violent conflict with a dog, references and direct mention of dog fighting.
> 
> A brief overview of THAT: Jason takes Titus to the dog park where two shady looking men sick their rottweiler on Titus. Jason steps in the way and is bitten by the dog, which he tries to make release him by pulling on his ear. The dog is not visibly effected and does not let go, not until the owner commands it to do so. The owner rushes the dog to the car and leaves Jason behind with the other man, bleeding and angry. If you wish to skip the scene, stop reading at: “maybe he’d gotten rusty but he was a little too slow.”
> 
> Begin reading again at: “Jason was reeling. What the actual fuck just happened?”
> 
> Later there is also a conflict involving underage prostitution, nothing happens, (the potential john gets beat up) but it is alluded to and Jason suffers a short flashback with a similarly vague mention of it. 
> 
> I also feel the need to just say, because this chapter does sort of set up a potential plot point involving dog fighting - it will not be explored beyond a few mentions/ relatively vague references in this fic after this chapter. I have plans for a sequel where it will come into play, but it does not play a big part in THIS fic, in case it might bother or put off any of my readers. Always be safe and all that!!
> 
> This chapter is like....really heavy and sad lol. But next chapter is a little less so and we begin to pick up in the “plot” a bit and see more characters come into play. Please leave a comment if you enjoyed! I love to hear from my readers! :)
> 
> Chapter title from the song The Leaving Song by AFI.


	5. He is worn out from marching

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new day and things were looking better - until there was an unexpected visitor at his door. Jason didn’t really know what to do with any of this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings this time.
> 
> Chapter title from Ghost by Blue Foundation (A song that always reminds me of Jason in a very tragic way)

There were no dreams that night.

Jason nearly sighed in relief when he woke up the next morning when the sun was already up and it wasn’t with any sharp sense of terror or anxiety. He just woke up slow, blinking his eyes up at the ceiling and listening to Titus’ soft snores fill the room. 

Maybe he suffered from a chronic lack of sleep but somehow getting a single solid night made everything seem not quite so awful.

It was warm in his room, and it smelled faintly of pine and mint from the last time he lit his candle. Sun was bleeding through the blinds and everything had a sort of soft haze to it.

Then Titus grunted in his sleep. He’d shifted through the night until now, at which point he was sprawled on his side, legs and feet extended and pressing against Jason. He was taking up more than half the bed and Jason was shoved off to the side, right arm dangling off the mattress.

Titus grunted again and shifted, tail slapping the covers. Jason lifted his head just enough to check if he was awake but he was still laying there with his eyes closed, so he must have been dreaming. He silently reached for his phone on the nightstand and pulled up the camera, switching to video. Titus’ tail slowed and stopped, and he was quiet for a moment before he let out a muffled bark, a weird strangled noise because he didn’t actually open his mouth and Jason suppressed a laugh. He did it again, followed by a drawn out bizarre noise Jason thought was maybe supposed to be some kind of howl that had him _wheezing._

His feet twitched, one after the other like he was trying to run in his sleep, up until he let out another bark, this one _loud_ and startled himself awake. He sprang upright, legs tangling in the blankets until he tumbled halfway out of the bed.

“Oh shit,” But Jason was laughing through the whole thing as he dropped his phone to make sure Titus didn’t break one of his stupidly long legs falling on the floor.

The dog seemed more embarrassed than anything else though and slunk off to the living room as soon as Jason gave him a once over. And so his morning started, decidedly better than his past few. He went pee, started some coffee, got Titus ear drops warmed up and forced him to sit still enough to get the damn things in his ears after he dripped them down his neck twice first. He bundled him up, _head muff first_ and then went for the rain jacked and paused. 

He really didn’t need to, it was stupid.

But then again the last time he’d thought part of this was stupid he’d ended up with a 160 pound dog trembling in his lap for forty minutes.

He pulled out his phone again, checked the damn temperature, it was in the thirties. Early enough to still be cold as balls.

“Hey tough guy, guess what that means? You get to be the cool kid at school this morning.” Titus stared up at him with the head warmer on and wagged his tail.

The red sweater went on. Which was way more difficult than Jason anticipated. Trying to get his huge freaking dog legs through the leg holes was nearly impossible, like who designed this shit? Titus was even a good sport about it, but his claws snagged in the fabric at least a dozen times and when he was finally done Jason snapped another photo and sent it to Damian.

 _Jason:_  
_Was this a joke? Were you just trying to get me to spend 15 minutes trying to get a sweater on a dog because you thought it’d be funny?_

The response came in approximately ten minutes later when they were midway through their walk.

 _Damian:_  
_It is disappointing I could not be witness to the struggle, but no, it is the only one we have. The store we went to before dropping him off did not have his size._

Jason rolled his eyes and went ahead and sent the video from earlier, wondering if the kid had ever used an emoji before in his life. Would he get a laughing face back? Maybe? He was almost hopeful.

 _Damian:_  
_That is amusing._

Jason choked. _“That is amusing,_ Christ, kid you are one of a kind.” He mumbled to himself, getting a suspicious look from an old lady as they walked by. Titus did his business relatively quickly, even with the sweater on it was still freezing and Jason was no more eager to be out in it than he was.

When they returned to his apartment Titus kept the sweater on, because Jason determined it was cold enough in his building to warrant it and he didn’t want to mess with trying to take the thing off. He was about to make breakfast, mentally reminding himself he needed to go to the freaking store soon, when someone knocked on his door.

Pausing with a hand midway to the egg carton, Jason thought back. Was he expecting anyone? Did he have any deliveries coming? There was nothing that he could think of and that made him immediately uneasy. He thought at first he would just ignore it, figuring it was maybe one of the neighbors for something unimportant, but Titus was at the door already, whining, and the knock came again.

Cautiously Jason approached his own door, grabbing a small knife from his kitchen as he went, just to be safe - he’d been surprised before. But when he peered through the peephole it wasn’t a stranger, and it wasn’t Dick - the only other person he might expect to see out of the blue. Instead, Barbara Gordon stared up at the peephole, arms crossed and an unimpressed look on her face.

“I know you’re in there Jason.” She yelled through the door. “I literally saw you on the security camera of the building next door.” He cursed, jolting back from the door and setting the knife back on the kitchen counter. He was gonna have to destroy that damn camera. Why the hell was she here? What was going on? He scanned through every interaction he’d had with her or any of the other bats in recent history. Was she here to yell at him for something? It wasn’t unlikely, he was sure he’d done something to deserve it, he usually did, but nothing was coming to him.

Another solid pound on the door punctuated her next statement, “Jason open the door!” Titus chose that moment to bark and Jason flinched.

“Jeez, inside voices Titus, Lordy-Lou.”

“I can hear you-”

“Alright!” With a growl of annoyance he finally unlocked the deadbolt and pulled the door open just enough to peak his head out. He stared down at Babs, who looked misleadingly average sitting there in her wheelchair, hair in a high ponytail, emerald green sweater under a dark wool coat, a white scarf and dark jeans, converse sneakers, he nearly snapped something snide and obnoxious but as soon as he opened his mouth it was like a record stop in his head.

“Wait- how the hell did you get up here?” Babs snorted, rolling her eyes.

“The polite thing to do would be to invite me inside.” And maybe Jason would have argued, or at least given her a hard time about it, but Titus took that moment to shove between his legs and nearly upend him trying to get through the door to greet her.

Babs let out another snorting laugh, closer to a choke. She let Titus lick her hands and rubbed all over his head while Jason awkwardly caught himself on the doorframe and tried to extricate his legs from straddling the dog like a horse, cursing under his breath the whole time.

“At least some people around here are nice to me, huh Titus?”

 _“Some people_ might say it’s rude to show up at someone’s place unannounced, especially before freaking ten in the morning.” She looked up at him, holding Titus’ head in her hands, she did not look impressed.

“Oh, because I’m sure you would have answered your phone if I had called.” Jason matched her expression with a mild glare for a split second more before he relented and moved back, opening his door all the way and making room for her to actually enter. He pulled Titus back inside by the collar and Barbara followed after, obviously glancing around with a scrutinizing gaze. 

It was the first time she’d ever been inside - obviously, considering there still was not magically an elevator in the building - which brought him back to his original question, “Seriously though, how did you make it up the stairs? It’s six freaking flights.”

He watched as she rolled herself into his kitchen and did a slow 360 degree turn, taking the place in.

“What, you don’t think I could have muscled my way up six flights of stairs with nothing but self righteous fury?” Jason huffed a laugh, walking a little further inside and leaning against the back of his couch.

“I mean I know you _could,_ but I don’t know why seeing my apartment would be worth it.”

“M, no, you’re right. I definitely did not do that.” She stopped as she turned to face him. “It’s a nice place.” Jason stared at her for a long moment, raising an eyebrow at the statement.

“It’s not.” Babs rolled her eyes.

“It _is.”_ She went to his couch, glancing through the cracked door to the guest room and bathroom. His bedroom door was closed thankfully, not that there was anything to see inside really but the blanket Alfred had made him was still draped over the end of his bed and for some reason he didn’t think he wanted her to know that. “So it’s not a penthouse, it’s neat, clean, well decorated. And that is one massive television. I didn’t even think you really liked tv.”

Titus followed Barbara everywhere she went, immediately resting his head on her arm anytime she stopped, making her smile and diverting her attention enough that Jason at least didn’t feel like he was being examined too closely. The bandage on his arm itched and he resisted scratching at it.

“I’m neutral on the subject. Roy talked me into it.” She snorted, absently petting at Titus’ head and staring at the blank screen.

“Sounds about right.” Jason stared at her for a long moment, the unease he felt when she first knocked making itself known again.

“So...what I do this time?”

“What?” She glanced back at him with a frown.

“I’m in trouble for something aren’t I? Why else would you show up here unannounced.”

She turned her chair to face him, dislodging Titus’ head with the move. “I would have called, I just didn’t think you’d answer. Because you never do. Except apparently when it’s Bruce?” She cocked an eyebrow at him and Jason tried not to squirm. He didn’t really want to admit it was an accident, but he also didn’t want her to think he was suddenly chummy with the man. He shrugged.

“Depends on my mood.”

“Well,” She said, exasperated, “I didn’t want to leave it to chance. I...I’d like to talk to you. But you’re not in trouble for anything Jay, I’m not here to yell at you.” He frowned at her, searching her face like somehow she might be hiding something there. If she was he didn’t find it.

“So talk.” He started to cross his arms over his chest and then dropped them, the bite flaring bright with pain at the movement. He winced and of course Barb’s sharp eyes noticed. Her gaze narrowed and she sat with her hands on the wheels of her chair, ready to move, but in the end she didn’t comment.

“I thought we could get coffee, if you’re free.”

Jason felt immediately nervous, though he wasn’t even sure why. Dick was the only one who ever invited him to meals or to do stuff outside of patrol, though it had been a long time since even that had happened. But standing there in the middle of his apartment he couldn’t think of a reason to say no and the longer he waited to respond the more awkward it became so he was left with no recourse but to shrug.

“Got no plans.” He muttered out, telling himself that at least if she wanted to go somewhere public she was probably telling the truth, she wasn’t gonna yell at him. Because after the previous night’s events, even though in the daytime, after a good night’s sleep, he felt mostly better, it was still there in the back of his mind. He still felt a little tender over it, a little sensitive, and he wasn’t sure he could take it.

Barb smiled and gave a short nod. “Great, I know a place not far from here where you can bring dogs. Titus can join us.”

“Sure.” Jason mumbled back, still not sure about what to expect. He bundled Titus back up, who seemed excited to go out even though they just got back not thirty minutes before. Babs smirked at the headwarmer and Jason just shrugged.

“The kid brought it over with him, he’s got a double ear infection.” At this the smirk turned down and she reached for the dog.

“Aw Titus,” She rubbed at his ears through the fabric which just lead to him shoving his face in her lap. “Ok boy.” She laughed it off, pushing him away and finally looked up at Jason where they both hovered in his entryway. “Shall we?”

Jason gestured forward, “Lead the way, I don’t know where we’re going.” He opened the door for her and followed her out until they were suddenly presented with the issue of Jason’s stairs.

“So, guess I finally get to figure out how you got up here?”

Babs sighed, “I guess you do, too bad, it really ruins the mystery.” She seemed like she was in a good mood, which he supposed wasn’t abnormal, he was just used to mostly hearing her over coms and not during everyday life. It reminded him of before, before all the other shit that got him killed and her put in the chair. It was...weird.

With this comment she rolled right up to the top step and pushed a button on the inside of her left armrest, one Jason hadn’t seen initially. He watched curiously, as did Titus. There was a soft mechanical noise and the dog was tilting his head back and forth, staring at the chair. 

The seat tilted backwards, and something extended out from the front, just above the floor, curved down over the stop step, and just like that it was moving her, one step at a time, down the stairs. The motion was smooth and Jason watched in fascination, walking at her side with Titus just behind them. He tilted his head, trying to get a better look at what exactly was happening.

“It’s pretty cool right?”

“It’s- yeah, that’s amazing. Didn’t know that was possible.” She shrugged, looking amused.

“They’ve had machines that do this kind of thing for moving cargo for years, it’s about time they make it work for wheelchair users when there’s, _apparently,_ still apartment buildings that don’t have elevators.” She gave him a halfhearted glare then and Jason actually did feel a little bad.

“Hey, it’s not like I chose the place because of that. I don’t love the six flights of stairs either. Didn’t really think you’d be dropping in much.”

She looked up at him again, her face more thoughtful than before.

“Well, I might, now that I’ve got the upgrade.” Jason swallowed, trying not to show what he felt about that, since he really didn’t know. This whole thing was so weird. Thankfully she didn’t seem to expect a reply and turned back to looking straight ahead. “I do wish they could do something about the speed though, that’s my main complaint, it took me nearly twenty minutes to get to your door.”

“Shit Babs, you should have texted me, I woulda come down.” She looked at him again, considering.

“Would you have?”

“Y-yeah...” Maybe...he wasn’t sure. She hummed noncommittally back, like she wasn’t buying it, he didn’t really blame her. He scratched at the back of his neck, feeling just as steadily uncomfortable as he had since he answered the door.

“This is actually new Wayne Enterprises tech, Bruce asked me if I wanted to test it out, I’m working with Lucius to improve the design before they put it to market. Even if it’s slow, it’s still one hell of an improvement.

“There’s product out there like it, but they’re usually huge and bulky, and you can’t just roll around with them on your chair, you have to bring them with you separately. The idea with this is to make something compact and light enough that it’s not overly noticeable if you aren’t paying attention and that won’t cost an arm and a leg once it hits the point they can start selling it.”

“That’s...that’s really awesome Babs, I didn’t know WE did anything with mobility stuff.”

“Oh yeah, they have for a while, every once in a blue moon Bruce asks me to test something out for them. I get to be the guinea pig. It’s usually neat, but occasionally I’m left wondering what idiot invented it.”

“Oh?” Jason asked, feeling amused in spite of himself. He could just picture her asking Lucius that.

“Yes, there was one, and in all fairness it was a good idea, it was just-“ She rolled her eyes, glasses flashing in the dim light of the stairwell. “The idea was to create a wheelchair that could be both manual or motorized, so that say, if you’re faced with a really steep hill you could use the assist, or if you’ve been going all day long you could switch over when you’re tired. And also for people who would normally have a motorized chair but don’t want to give up the exercise entirely.

 _“But._ Are you familiar with motorized wheelchairs Jason?”

“I mean...not really, they’re kinda bulky aren’t they?”

“They weigh about 100 to 250 pounds on average, depending on the kind of wheelchair. There is one on the market that’s only fifty. But in trying to integrate both, the kind of wheels are different, much larger than on a motorized chair, and anyway, it weighed ninety two pounds Jason.” She gave him a _look_ when he let out a low whistle, tapering off into a chuckle.

“What, you mean you didn’t want to lug around an extra ninety two pounds everywhere you went?”

“Not that I couldn’t. But no, I’d rather not. And given the kind of workout I do I highly doubt your average woman would even be able to. Kind of defeated the purpose of being able to do both when the chair weighs as much as a fourth grader.” 

Jason snorted, finally feeling a little more at ease. They were just hitting the ground floor, exiting out onto the street. “Seems weird they couldn’t get the weight down.”

“Whoever the idiot was designing it was very insistent on having the longest battery life possible so it was mainly that, this massive battery weighed fifty pounds on its own.”

It was still very brisk outside and Jason stuffed his hands in his pockets, being careful to avoid rubbing his left arm against anything.

“How much battery life did that give you?”

“Seventy two hours.”

“Seventy hours? Isn’t that a little excessive?”

“That is what I thought, yes.” They stopped on a corner, waiting for the crosswalk to change, Titus trying to inch his way towards a young kid holding a muffin. Jason tugged back on his leash.

“Why not introduce solar power or something? Make it charge itself when you’re out and about?”

“Because he was an idiot. That was actually one of my suggestions. In the end I think they did do something like that, but I refused to retest it if they couldn’t get the weight to fifty pounds or less.” 

“How much does the one you’re using now weigh?” The crosswalk changed and they started across the street. “Titus, heel.” He was still after the muffin but looked back at the command, easily trotting up next to him. “Hell I didn’t even know he knew that command.” Barb smirked at him.

“It weighs about twenty pounds before the attachment, which weighs fifteen. So I’m at a grand totally of thirty five currently.”

“Must be why you’re so buff.” She grinned this time.

“And a few other things.”

Jason realized, abruptly, that he wasn’t so uncomfortable anymore, that the conversation was moving easily, casually, bantering about tech. It was weird. Because it wasn’t like he wasn’t used to bantering with any of the bats. It was just always in costume, on a job. He never really knew if it would transfer over.

But of course...there was Bruce, asking him to dog sit. And Damian, texting him snarky messages. Now Barb was here...it made him nervous in a weird way, like being handed a priceless piece of art.

It was nice, but he wasn’t sure what to do with it, and he was a little terrified he’d damage it somehow.

He was also not entirely certain that’s what it was. Maybe it was just some piece of kitsch, maybe this wasn’t different to any of them at all, just business. Maybe Jason was the only one who was reading so far into things.

“So where is this place?” He asked, shaking the thought from his head.

“Just another block down, you’ll know it when you see it.”

And sure enough, he did. There was a giant paw print on the sign which read _The Barking Dog Cafe._

“Didn’t realize they were so upfront about the dog thing. How have I never seen this place?” He looked up and down the block, eyeing the other businesses on the street. “It’s barely three blocks from my apartment.”

“You don’t get out enough, sounds like.” Jason huffed but also felt a twinge at the comment because...it was probably true. Before Titus showed up he hadn’t been outside during the day to do anything but supply runs. He knew where the grocery store was, and the gas station, and that was about all he paid attention to. Anything else that wasn’t open after midnight wasn’t on his radar.

The place was a little on the nose for Jason. It was designed to look like a barn house, little checkered curtains in the windows with a blue, distressed, double-hung front door. Their was a bell that jingled when they walked inside, to old oak floors and mismatched table and chairs scattered around. It was warm, and there was a low murmur of conversation. A few dogs were laying under tables, resting their heads on their owners feet or sitting up and begging for scraps. 

The menu on the wall above the counter was shaped like a dog bone. The place made him think of the couple times he’d ever been to the Kent’s when he was a kid and that hit him with a kind of nostalgia that felt like a punch to the gut. He blinked a few times, feeling dazed standing just inside the door, up until the bell rang again and he startled out of the way, jogging the couple steps to catch up to Barbara at the front counter.

Titus was more calm than Jason would have expected, but still looked around with interest, ears perked up high, tail wagging slowly. 

“What do you feel like Jay? I’m buying.”

“Oh, uh...” He stared at the menu for a long second, not even sure what he was reading before she shrugged. “Just uh, whatever you’re getting is good.”

This ended up being a large black coffee and a scone, which Jason was perfectly happy with. They settled in at a little round table in the corner with four legs so Titus could still manage to fit most of his body underneath it. Each of their scones came with a dog biscuit, which shouldn’t be surprising, and Titus happily swallowed both of them nearly whole. As a last minute thought Jason tugged the headwarmer down on his neck so he didn’t overheat.

And then it was just them, Jason and Barbara, sitting across from each other in a cafe that looked startlingly like the Kent’s farmhouse, surrounded by other people’s dogs. It was awkward for all of a minute, but Babs was never one to beat around the bush and now that they were here, she jumped right in.

“So, you’re probably wondering why I wanted to chat.” Of course Jason had been, but he was also not entirely sure he wanted to know.

“Sure.” He hedged, staring down into his coffee and wishing he had asked for cream to go with it. There was some at a stand next to the front counter, just fifteen feet away or so but he couldn’t bring himself to get up.

“You know I monitor all channels during patrol.” Her voice was hushed then, dropped low enough that no one in their surroundings could make out what she was saying. Jason glanced up though, still surprised that she’d bring him to a public place to talk about something to do with their _private_ lives. “I mean,” She amended, “I don’t just hang around and eaves drop. But I know who talks to whom, and when.” 

“Oh?” Jason wasn’t sure where she was going and with this and his nerves were slowly ticking back up. 

“Dick told me he asked for your help at the bank in Gotham Heights, and that you turned him down - and that’s fine Jay,” She rushed to add, as if she thought he would jump down her throat about it. “But I also know that you weren’t handling anything difficult when you told him that. You were standing in your apartment building. You’d already come home for the night.”

Jason stiffened, “Oh, you’re monitoring my location now?” Her eyebrows lowered, pinching together.

“Yes, just like I monitor _everyone’s_ location throughout patrol, in case anyone needs help. The rest of them of course, wear trackers. You I have to follow on security feeds.”

Jason huffed and took a sip of his coffee, rolling his eyes and trying to decide if he should be angry yet.

“I’ve...” She hesitated, glancing around the shop and down to her coffee. “I’ve noticed in the last few months you’ve been cutting back, skipping patrol more often, heading in earlier than usual.”

And that was all he needed. To flip from unsure and anxious to angry. Jason knew how to be angry, and there was a certain amount of relief in having an excuse to fall back into it.

“That is none of your goddamn business Babs.”

“I’m not saying it is-”

“Then why the hell are you monitoring me? Keeping track? You making sure I don’t fly off the handle and kill somebody? Did Bruce put you up to it? Just to make sure I’m not lying to his face when I say I haven’t?”

“Jason could you shut up for a second and let me finish?” She was clutching her coffee cup just as tight as he was, and glaring at him, eyebrows so tight together they looked like they were fighting for dominance. “I monitor _everyone._ That is my _job._ You are not _special._ I’m saying I’ve noticed you cutting back and all I’m trying to tell you is if you need a break, you should _take one.”_

“Why? You think I’m a liability? That it?” Somehow, despite the heat of their conversation they were both still speaking in harsh whispers, bending closer and closer together over the table.

Babs closed her eyes, setting her coffee down just to pinch the bridge of her nose and it reminded him so much of Bruce that irritation flared up in his gut like a flame. “That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then what _are_ you saying?” He watched her, his shoulders stiff, every nerve strung tight like he was ready for a physical fight. She stared at the tabletop, set her hands flat on the surface and took a deep, slow breath. The act of it felt so patronizing he wanted to stand up and leave right then, but when she spoke again her words were level and soft, lacking any heat.

“I’m saying I care about you Jay, and I’m glad you’re back in the fold, but you seem...you seem like maybe you’re struggling right now and taking a break could help. I...” Jason hadn’t moved but she glanced up at him, mouth twisting in uncertainty. “Please don’t get offended by this, but I’m hoping you’d consider seeing somebody-”

“Somebody? Like a fucking therapist?” The very implication that Jason was not in his right mind nearly sent him through the roof if only because it was a thought that had been haunting him for weeks.

“Yes Jay, a therapist.” Jason opened his mouth, ready to spew every vitriolic thing he could dig up when she cut him off, “it is not because I think you’re crazy, or _weak_ ok? I have a personal recommendation of someone who’s good. You know why? Because she was _my_ therapist after I got shot Jay.” She stared at him, solidly, face impassive. Jason swallowed, feeling the acid in his stomach dissolve. He absently registered Titus settling his head on his feet under the table.

“I still see her sometimes.” She added softly, looking back down to the table, where she was chipping at a patch of peeling paint. “When there’s an Arkham breakout, or some Joker copycat shows up. Or sometimes just because the nightmares are bad and I don’t know what’s triggered them.” She looked back up, eyes scanning his face.

“Do you think I’m weak Jay?”

“W-what?” He sputtered, feeling completely thrown.

“Do you? I think we understand each other better than most. Especially when it comes to him. So do you think I’m weak?”

“O-of course not.” Babs was one of the strongest people he knew. She always had been.

”Or crazy?”

”No, Babs.”

“Good. Because I’m not.” She gave him a little smile before she continued, “It doesn’t mean you’re weak to need help Jay. But I know how you are and that your relationship with the rest of the family is rocky, and you’re probably not gonna reach out. So that’s why I’m here. Maybe I’m seeing things that aren’t there. Maybe I’m imagining the pattern, it’s not like I keep an excel sheet with your schedule on it.

“But I didn’t want to let this go if I could help. So, totally ignore me if you want to. I’m just saying, if you feel like you need a break, or someone to talk to. You can do both. You don’t have to tell anyone for that matter. I will happily tell them all that you’re helping me with some deep undercover mission if you want to go off the radar for a while.”

Jason - had no idea what to say back. She was being nice to him and he didn’t know how to take it when people were nice to him when he was expecting something else. He kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. To be scolded for leaving Dick hanging and for taking so much time off. To be scrutinized for why he turned in so early, for her to question his control of himself. He felt like everybody looked at him like a bomb just waiting to go off.

Maybe because sometimes he felt like one.

He rubbed at his mouth with a closed fist, swallowing against the lump that wanted to rise in his throat.

“You don’t have to tell me now. You’ve got my number.” He sucked in a deep breath through his nose and nodded.

“Yeah.” It came out gravelly and harsh and he cleared his throat self consciously, rubbing at the back of his neck. He felt like his insides were raw, like he just slid across concrete on bare skin. “I...I am sorry for not helping Dick, when he comm’d.”

“Oh, please.” She said, sipping at her coffee with both hands, apparently entirely at ease. “Dick didn’t need help with that, I was seeing everything he was. He just wanted the company.”

Along with all the other stuff he kind of felt like she just punched him in the stomach. He was itching to leave, to retreat and reassess, figure this all out in his head without someone else there watching and reading him. He shifted in his seat and dislodged Titus’ head, who grumbled loudly and moved to a sitting position. Babs smirked, broke off a piece of her scone and slipped it under the table.

“Damian’d kill you for that.”

“And he’ll never know,” She leveled her eyes at him above the frames of her glasses, “will he?” Jason snorted and rolled his own, taking a long gulp of his coffee and trying to think of a way to get out of there.

“You should call Dick.”

“What?” He snearly sputtered.

“He misses you.” Jason was caught off guard enough that he didn’t manage to stifle his scoff.

“Oh? Not like he calls _me.”_ And then Barb stopped, tilted her head up from where she was looking at Titus below the table and gave him the most incredulous look he’d ever seen.

“Are you kidding me? You ignore his calls. Every single time. He told me. Trust me I heard about it _every day.”_

And Jason felt heat crawling up his neck, embarrassed and unreasonably upset all at once.

“That was months ago.” He mumbled, shoving a piece of cinnamon scone in his mouth big enough to choke on. When he glanced back up her face had gone all soft again and he didn’t know what to do with that because hell, it was weird. He knew Babs could be soft, but he’d rarely seen it, usually in relation to Dick or the two girls, Cass and Stephanie. Never at him.

“He’s trying to give you space. His other strategy of constant badgering obviously wasn’t working so he decided to change strategy.”

Jason, of course, didn’t know that. He remembered the constant phone calls after he and Bruce had made their agreement.

And how much they had bugged him.

Like oh, wow, now that Bruce approved he was suddenly on Dick’s radar. So he’d ignored him, feeling spiteful. But then eventually they’d stopped, and Jason told himself he was glad, he didn’t need a babysitter trying to drag him back into the mire of this “family”.

Except that he still always checked his voicemail. Tried to ignore the sinking feeling that Dick had given up on him, it was just what he expected, nothing more, nothing less. Not like he blamed the guy. It was just the way things were.

“That’s why he asks for your help on jobs he doesn’t need it for. He wants to see you, to talk, and you’re a lot more responsive in the field.”

Jason didn’t say anything back, because what the hell even was this entire conversation?

He felt like a cornered animal, he had to get out of there.

Maybe Barb could sense that he’d had enough, or maybe she was the one who couldn’t deal with him anymore, but either way she beat him to it.

“Anyway, just...consider what I said.” She pushed her plate and empty coffee cup to the side of the table and grabbed her purse where it was hanging off the handle of her chair. “I have to get back to the tower, but...it’s been good to see you Jay.”

He wanted to think she was being genuine but somehow his gauge for even being able to tell was completely shot. He just nodded at her when she backed away from the table. She hesitated though, before she turned to leave.

“I might drop in again sometime, get your opinion on the next upgrade to the chair.” It wasn’t a question, and Jason should have been irritated by that, but he couldn’t seem to muster it. He just nodded again, still sitting there, and she smiled back, still soft around the edges. He watched her go, feeling numb.

Him and Titus sat there, at this kitschy cafe, for another thirty minutes before Jason could muster the energy to leave. As soon as Barb was gone he felt like a puppet with cut strings. The place was bustling with life but Jason barely even processed it. Just kept going over random snippets of their conversation in his head.

_I’m saying I care about you Jay, and I’m glad you’re back in the fold._

_He just wanted the company._

_He misses you._

And she...she’d referred to him as part of the family. Which was _not_ what he wanted. 

Hadn’t been for a long time.

But it still felt...it still felt like _something_ to hear it.

In the end it was nothing more than Titus whining at him that got him out of the chair. Being out in the middle of the day, he should go ahead and grab some groceries but he couldn’t muster the energy, so instead they ambled back to his building, and Jason watched his breath crystallize in the air and tried to stop himself from scanning through people as they went. He thought about what she said.

He could take a break.

But somehow the very idea felt wrong. How did you take a break from this? How did you leave people without any help when you could provide it?

Jason spent years being the kid that needed help, and now he was old enough and strong enough to be the one giving it. It didn’t feel right to just turn his back on people, on kids like he used to be. He’d taken trips before, traveled, back with the outlaws when the band was still together. But they’d always been working, there was always crime, everywhere, and Jason wasn’t sure he’d ever really taken a break. 

He groaned aloud as they entered back into his building, rubbing his face. Titus licked his hand when he dropped it back down, drawing his attention. He wagged his tail, looking up at him with perked up ears like he thought the sound was a growl or something.

“You wanna play? Is that it?” He unhooked the leash and knelt down, holding Titus’ collar in one hand, Jason held his other hand out in a closed fist, right in front of the dog’s face. “You ready? go get it!” He swung his arm forward like he was throwing something up the stairs and let go just to watch Titus rocket up the first flight and then stop at the landing, looking around, pacing back and forth and sniffing every corner.

“Ah, you big idiot.” Jason said fondly, walking up after him, “come on, I got actual toys in the apartment.”

  
  


*

  
  


He avoided thinking about anything else Barbara said for the rest of the day. Went out and grabbed some groceries at the corner market a block away from his place. He felt weird without Titus there for some reason, more nervous than he remembered being, eyes snapping up at every noise, watching each person in the market like they were hiding a bomb under their shirt or something.

He wasn’t sure a break would do him a lot of good anyway.

It was evening, just after Jason had eaten dinner, and he was settling himself on the couch to read for a bit before taking Titus out for his last walk. He’d been doing loops around the apartment again, two in the last hour, and seemed restless even after all their activity for the day. Finally he laid down on the floor, just in front of the couch. It wasn’t two minutes later that Jason was nearly passing out from noxious fumes.

“Holy shit Titus.” He waved his book in the air, hoping despite all odds that it would somehow create a gust strong enough to clear the air. “Oh my god I think I’m dying.” He wheezed, it was worse than a fraggin’ landfill. He could practically _see it,_ a green cloud permeating his apartment.

The dog in question looked back at him, ears back, guilty if he’d ever seen it. 

Jason was forced to get up, he walked to the kitchen, which helped, but only a little. He grabbed his phone on the way to opening a window and shot a text to Damian.

 _Jason:_  
_You should market Titus to the US military, the bombs he’s letting off right now have got to be worth money._

After every window in his living room was open, which was ridiculous, because it was _November_ and flipping freezing outside, he got a reply from the demon bird.

 _Damian:_  
_Yes, the specialized diet helps but we so far have not found a perfect solution._

Jason cracked up, he couldn’t help it. What self respecting twelve year old boy replied to a message about dog farts with something so weirdly stoic? But then he got another alert.

 _Damian:_  
_Father has made similar observations._

And that was enough to make him lose it, picturing Bruce waving his damn newspaper in the air, making that particularly pinched face he had, probably researching dog foods for three days.

Titus found him sitting on the floor against the back of his kitchen cabinets, holding his stomach with one arm, wheezing. He licked his kneecap.

“Gross Titus.” Then he licked his hands, sat down and laid next to him, rolling over and exposing his belly. “Aw bud, you got a stomach ache? This is all Bab’s fault. Should charge her for emotional damages.”

It was about twenty minutes later, when the air had mostly cleared and Jason was closing the windows and tugging on a sweatshirt, and debating pulling out a gas mask just in case, that he got another message.

 _Damian:_  
_Father has insisted I not make “unreasonable” requests of you while we are away, but I am hoping there is one thing you might do._

_As I’m sure you are away, dogs are pack animals and make bonds with those in their household. I am concerned that us leaving him with you will cause separation anxiety as not only am I gone, but he also does not have Alfred. Either of them, for that matter. Nor Batcow._

_I know you did not want to go to the manor every day in order to walk Titus but if it is at all possible it would be beneficial to each of them if you could at some point bring him to the manor while we are away._

Jason stared at the message, suddenly feeling weirdly soft on the kid, acting like he was some kind of pet psychologist, using big words and a drawn out explanation for _I think my dog misses my cat, (and cow, sheesh) can you fix that?_

Damian was a little asshole, but he was also a little kid. And so Jason thought about it, for real, but it made his gut twist. Sometimes going to the manor felt ok, and other times it just...didn’t.

He tapped out a hesitant reply.

 _Jason:_  
_I’ll try if I have time_

Like he was busy...it was a stupid reply and he was just waiting for Damian to call him on it. Titus was pacing the apartment again and Jason was thinking it was time for another walk, he brought a couple extra poop bags just in case...

It was dark out and even colder than it had been. Jason wondered how much snow they were gonna get this year. He hated the snow, had ever since his mom died and he spent his first winter on the streets.

He thought about what he would do with his time if he did ‘take a break’. Jason wasn’t exactly busy now, not that anyone else would know, except maybe Barb...and there was a chance Bruce, if he kept as close of tabs on him as Jason sometimes worried he did.

Jason used to be busy, a lot. He used to sleep during the first half of the day, spend the second half investigating leads, doing street work, gathering intel, and then he’d spend his nights doing the dirty work. But it hadn’t been quite like that for a little while. Not since he’d made the agreement with Bruce.

Before, Red Hood was his entire life. It consumed him. there was no Clark Kent to his Superman, no Bruce Wayne to his Batman. Jason _was_ Red Hood and Red Hood was on a mission, one that had changed at some point from a pure thirst for revenge to something much more complicated. Was still morphing, slowly.

Part of him worried sometimes, about how much of his actions were...well, his own. Sometimes on the bad days he wondered how much of things he’d done in the past were him, and how much were _something else._

He knew in the beginning it was Pit Madness, that he had been sharpened like a sword by Tahlia and turned toward Bruce in hopes that - Jason wasn’t even sure anymore, what she had been trying to get out of it. 

He’d gotten better, his thoughts had cleared. But since he’d stopped killing nearly six months previously certain things seemed...different...he looked back on some of the things he’d done, when he though the Pit’s influence had left him, and he wondered... _was that me?_ And he couldn’t decide if he wanted it to have been or not.

Because both options scared him.

Red Hood was...figuring out who he was now, now that his methods and...priorities had shifted. Jason Todd was sort of doing the same thing, trying to figure out if he needed a Clark Kent. If he needed a person to be outside the mask.

For a long time he hadn’t thought so, but the further away he got from the Pit the more he knew his thinking had been...skewed, before. Wasn’t sure he liked the idea of not being a real person. 

But after being dead, coming back to life, digging out of his grave, taking a dip in a Lazarus Pit, spending time with the League of Assassins and killing off half of Gotham’s criminal underworld he wasn’t sure he knew how to be one.

Titus was nosing around a fire hydrant, lifting his leg to piss when his phone buzzed in his jacket pocket. He pulled it out absently, wondering if he was about to get a mini lecture in text about why animal pack bonds were so important but instead, he found a short message with a photo attached. And it wasn’t from Damian.

It was from Bruce.

 _Bruce:_  
_Thank you again for watching Titus, Damian seems pleased with your messages._

_There’s a bookstore here specializing in classic literature and rare books. If there’s anything you’d like me to look for let me know, I can pick it up for you._

The photo was of a store front. All red brick with a black door and a black framed window. There was gold lettering above the window that read _Maggs Bros. LTD._

Jason swallowed, feeling uncertain and a little alarmed. His initial thought was maybe it was meant for someone else, but this was _Bruce_ and he’d mentioned watching Titus so obviously it wasn’t. His stomach flipped in his gut, squirming uncomfortably, his mind going back to the gift shoved in the bottom of his dresser.

He stared at it for a long time before he slipped the phone back in his pocket, ignoring the itch to re-read it, to look for some kind of hidden message. He didn’t know what Bruce was trying to do and he wasn’t willing to play his stupid games.

Titus licked his hand and Jason startled, realizing they’d been standing on the same corner for nearly five minutes while his brain short circuited over a text.

His arm itched under the bandages and he made the mistake of scratching at it as they continued down the sidewalk, hissing under his breath at the throbbing sting. He’d need to change the bandage, apply more antibacterial cream. He probably should have given himself some stitches but his hands weren’t the steadiest and he wasn’t about to bring something so small to Leslie, or go to the manor for Alfred, whom he was still a little peeved with.

He’d never stay mad, ‘cause it was _Alfred_ but he couldn’t shake the feeling of being manipulated even if he knew the man would never do something like that on purpose. 

Maybe it was because it was working and Jason hated himself for falling for it, for looking for things he’d told himself a long time ago to give up on.

But then there was his phone, feeling like it was gonna burn through his pocket if he ignored it for too long.

There was a part of him, somewhere in the back of his mind that said he was being ridiculous. It was a gift and a text message, it was nothing so profound.

Except that it was Bruce, so it sort of was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=hOYCeGd_tgY - This is a video of what I based Barbara’s wheelchair tech on if you’re interested.
> 
> Another chapter down! This is where things begin to pick up storywise...only 35k words in! As I was writing this I was like _I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to give Bruce_ any _lines._ But it’s a slow build and all that....if that counts when so far literally only three days have passed...I think it counts lmao.
> 
> I feel like I’m constantly pushing therapy, but there is so much TRAUMA in this family. They could all use it. I don’t believe there’s any canon that says Bab’s saw someone after _The Killing Joke_ But I think that’s stupid. It was highly traumatizing and Bab’s has a good and reasonable head on her shoulders and so I think she would have...if for no other reason than to recover faster so she could get back on that horse. 
> 
> Anyway I hope you enjoyed - please comment! They make me excited and motivated to keep working :)


	6. This means nothing so spare me the lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason dreams, takes a smoke break, watches a movie, goes to the store, makes cookies, and has incredibly complicated feelings about _everything._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t think there are any particular warnings to give this chapter....except for maybe childhood homelessness?? But it’s sort of a given...with Jason. 
> 
> Early chapter because I will be busy most of the day tomorrow!

The bite was bothering him, itchy under the bandages, more than he thought it should be, so he checked them later than night, figuring it was time to change the dressing anyway. It was a little red for his taste, a small sign of infection, so he was careful to clean it thoroughly again, even though it still hurt like a bitch. He slathered more antibacterial cream on it, slapping on a couple new bandages. There were some antibiotics stashed in a go bag he kept in the second bedroom that he dug out, just to be safe, and took a dose, leaving them on his bathroom counter. 

When he got back to the couch to continue his evening, Titus was so put off by the smell of the cream he wouldn’t even sit near him. Instead he slunk back to his bed, ears and tail down like he was in trouble or something.

“Oh you big baby.” Jason grumbled, wedging himself down into the cushions and leaning his head back on the arm rest. He’d just started a re-read of _Howl’s Moving Castle_ and there wasn’t a character in it that he didn’t like. Something he went back to when he felt the urge. He’d read it more times than he could count, it was one of the first books in Bruce’s library he had finished. Something full of magic and adventure that at the time felt more real than it ever could have otherwise.

He didn’t know how it held, after everything, but something about it still gave him that feeling of a fire in the dark. So he came back to it, when he needed that.

He fell asleep reading it and the dreams hit him hard and fast.

It was freezing outside, snow dusting the ground. Jason was ten years old and it was his first winter on the streets. He was laying on Honey’s couch. One of the working girls he used to bum cigarettes off of when his mom was still alive. She’d heard he was on his own now, come and found him huddled back behind a storefront with a large enough overhang to keep the snow and rain off.

She was nice, she made him tea and he’d been staring at the mug and the steam wafting off it for a few minutes, wondering if he’d ever feel this warm or comfortable again.

She was humming in the kitchen, and for a brief moment, in his hazy mind, he thought it was his mom and he was home sick from school.

He could smell the mint from the tea, feel the weight of the blanket draped over him. It was soft and quiet, and the lights were off but for a lamp in the corner, glowing a soft yellow. Jason felt safe, safe enough to close his eyes and drift off like he hadn’t been able to in weeks. 

Honey came back into the room and he felt fingers run through his hair once before he was out.

It was a good night.

And then everything dissolved into the dark, his feet pounding against wet concrete hard enough to string while he sprinted down an alley in the freezing rain, heart pounding in his chest. There was a dog after him, a huge mutt Honey’s pimp had sent after him when he’d found him sleeping there.

Never mind he’d had her permission, never mind she’d tried to stop him, it was _bad for business_ and Jason was back out in the cold before the sun was up, running for his worthless little life. His ankle throbbed, blood squelching down into his sock with every clap on the pavement. The thing was snarling at his heels, it sounded like a freight train coming up behind him, drowning out the frantic sounds of his own breathing before he’d managed to leap at a dumpster he was about to fly by, clawing himself up on top of it and using the drain pipe of the building it was pushed up against the shimmy his way up to the roof where he lay on his back, shaking and freezing in the slushed rain clutching at his bitten, bleeding ankle. 

Jason woke with a start to the smell of dog breath and a wet nose nudging at his cheek. 

He sat up in a rush, book falling in his lap. Titus whined at his side and put a paw on his leg, pushing himself up to lick at his face. Jason sputtered, shoving him off and panting for breath like he was just sprinting down an alley.

 _“Shit.”_ He breathed in the dim light of his apartment. There were no lights on but for the lamp in the corner and it was too close to the dream, too close to that feeling of temporary comfort. It was strange, but sometimes the dreams that didn’t seem so bad hit him the hardest.

He fumbled up off the couch, nearly running into Titus just to get to the light switch. Jason blinked back the sting and stood there for a long time, feeling tremors run through his shoulders and down his arms, making the bite throb.

He wasn’t sure what it was really, but sometimes the dreams from when he was on the streets were the worst ones. It was so long ago it didn’t even make sense, he’d lived so much worse since then.

But maybe that was the point.

Those memories were his first. When he learned you couldn’t trust anyone, that you had to take care of yourself ‘cause nobody else would. He’d known to a certain extent since he was small not to trust just anyone. Willis Todd made sure he knew that, but it wasn’t until his mom died that everything became quite so clear. Even the people who wanted to help couldn’t.

He needed a fucking cigarette.

The carton was just where he left it, stashed under his bed, a long stem lighter laying on his nightstand for the candle. He used it to light up, not wanting to search for his Zippo, somewhere in one of his kitchen drawers. He took a long drag immediately and concentrated on the feeling of the warmth rushing down his throat.

Turning to go to the window, Titus was right there, tripping him up as he tried to step around him. He whined until Jason stopped for a second and finally ran a hand over his head.

“I’m fine Titus, I’m good.” He breathed out, careful to point the smoke away from him. Finally Titus let him slip by, allowing him to reach his bedroom window where he slid it open and hung his upper body outside into the freezing air, resting his elbows on the sill. 

It was a wonder, Jason thought, that he ever really wanted a dog at all after that.

Except that even when he was little, he’d known dogs weren’t just like that. People made them that way. He took another drag, feeling the warmth in his chest as he thought about what that took. 

What it took to turn an animal like Titus into something that snapped at anything that came too close. An uneasy feeling welled up in stomach that he should know.

Jason of all people should know. 

He stared down at his hand holding the cigarette, watching the glowing end in the dark, listening to the noise of the city below and around him. Cars honked in the distance, driving by on the street below every now and then. He stubbed out his cigarette and dropped it out the window to the street. 

Titus was sitting behind him when he turned around and he patted at his head as he slipped by, searching for his cell where he left it on the coffee table. Pulling Barbara up in his phone should have taken longer, considering how rarely he messaged her, except that he hardly messaged _anyone._

_Jason:  
Hey, I’m wondering if you can look into something for me. I got a lead that there’s a dog fighting ring somewhere in the city. Don’t really have any good information, hoping you can dig up some more._

He sent it before he could think better of it. Maybe without the damn phone number he wouldn’t be able to find anything but Babs was a genius with surveillance and finding information. If anybody could figure it out, it was her.

It wasn’t a minute later that her reply came in.

_Barbara:  
I’ll check on it._

Jason took a breath, running a hand through his hair and tugging at the roots, he stared at his coffee table. Even if he was useless, hopefully she’d find something.

His hand felt empty without the cigarette but Titus was right there again, trying to push into his personal space and shove his head in his lap. Absently, he knew Damian would kill him if he found out he was smoking in the dog’s presence, even just a few puffs would be enough. But lord he still felt wired, like he drank three cups of coffee in the span of ten minutes.

This was when he really wished he had freaking cable.

Books were like magic to Jason. They could take you anywhere. But sometimes when your mind was buzzing too much it was impossible to let them. He needed the noise and the images, he didn’t even have any _movies-_

Except that he did actually. Just the one. Tucked in the bottom of his dresser with a bunch of junk.

Jason had read _Pride and Prejudice_ probably ten times through the years. Though he’d never seen a movie adaptation. He tended to avoid them in general without a direct recommendation because they were just _so awful_ most of the time.

It was just a movie. It wasn’t like Bruce was going to materialize in his living room if he decided to watch it. Really why did he make such a huge deal out of it? He liked that story, and the idea of settling in to a comfortable fiction on the screen made his shoulders lower just a little, the itch for a cigarette diminish just that much.

“Screw it.”

It took him a good ten minutes to figure out how to work the stupid BluRay player that was built into the tv because he kept looking for a button before he realized he just had to slide the disc in the slot on the side. 

Initially, he found himself scrutinizing the characters and their costumes, looking for differences from the book, trying to find flaws, but it wasn’t five minutes in that his brain quieted and he just _enjoyed_ it. Titus climbed up on the cushions with him again, settled himself between Jason’s legs after a few misplaced steps and a little cursing on Jason’s part. He rested his head on his thigh and was forced to curl up tight enough to fit that it couldn’t be comfortable. But Titus seemed happy enough so he left it, absently rubbing at the dog’s ears as he watched.

It was a good interpretation. Jason found himself laughing out loud at parts, quoting short snippets out loud of dialogue he remembered. They didn’t all match up, mind you, which was a little disappointing but it was enjoyable from the start, and as it came to its close he thought maybe he should pick up the book again, to refresh his memory.

Elizabeth Bennet was a character that had surprised Jason when he was a kid.

He remembered being in the eighth grade, reading the book with Bruce after he’d convinced him to give it a shot after Jason had claimed he didn’t want to read a stupid romance novel. 

He remembered loving Elizabeth and thinking if he met a girl like that he’d hold onto her, wouldn’t screw up so bad at first though like Darcy. He also remembered thinking Darcy reminded him of Bruce when he was a kid.

The stoicism, the assumptions, the high handedness, the condescension. But alternatively, the care, the _awkward_ care, the nobility, the strength, the softness...and then he remembered finding out it was all fake.

Jason turned off the tv and felt a stone settle in the pit of his stomach.

But he thought about that box now laid out on his bed where he’d left it, thought about the movie he’d just watched, about how Bruce had thought about him, bought him something when Jason was still killing just cause it reminded him of Jason and he’d thought he’d like it. Wondered with a twist if like everything with the pit, seeing how different things looked from this side of them, if maybe he’d been mistaken about other things too.

Jason couldn’t just believe that though, that he was entirely wrong about Bruce’s feelings for him, because if he did - then that would mean that the things he did because of it were awful and wrong and he knew he wasn’t all there back then but there was enough of him that he shoudn’t have...he just _shouldn’t._

Why couldn’t he have seen? he wondered. If he - if he had come back differently, if he hadn’t come gunning for Batman’s head, maybe things could have been different but now - now there was all this shit in the mix and it _wasn’t_ just Jason. He was still mad at Bruce. He would still be mad at Bruce for so many things but...but Jason could see, he could see plain as day that it wasn’t just Bruce who ruined their relationship.

He didn’t know why it felt so hard to take, Jason had always been bad at holding on to good things, it wasn’t who he was.

He couldn’t even stay dead.

  
  


*

  
  


Once again, Jason woke up to whining at the door. He sprang up from the couch, heart rate shooting to the ceiling in an instant. “Ah shit.” Jason stumbled to his feet, glanced at the clock and cursed himself because yeah, it was after 10am.

“Shit, shit, shit sorry buddy, we’ll go out in two seconds, two seconds-” He was already stumbling into his bedroom, digging clothes out of his dresser, he stripped out of his pajamas, tugged on a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, a sweatshirt. He slammed his feet into a pair of boots with no socks and grabbed his coat.

Titus was whining by the time he came out of his room. “I know, I know, I’m going as fast as I can.” He grabbed Titus’ jacket, shoved the head sleeve over his snout and snapped the leash on.

They were out the door in under two minutes, jogging down the stairs. It was probably a miracle the dog wasn’t dribbling pee every step but magically he held it all the way out of the building. He lifted his leg on the first upright object he came to, which happened to be a stop sign. And Titus went, and went....and _went._ Somebody honked and waved as they drove by and Jason didn’t know if he should flip them off or laugh.

The panic of waking up with the threat of imminent pee was finally fading as Titus finished his business and was happy enough to start on the route Jason had been taking him for walks. He really wished he had put socks on, but it was a necessary sacrifice.

He stretched his back and neck, still sore and tight from sleeping on the couch all night, and pulled out his phone. He planned to check the weather, see if it was supposed to rain and what the temperature was predicted to be.

But then he saw the message from the night before, the one from Bruce. He stared at it for a long time, a strange nervous energy coming over him. What would be the harm in replying? It was a text message and the last thing Jason wanted was for Bruce to think he was brooding or ignoring him and try to fix it. There was enough, in that moment, floating around in his head, to make him question his self imposed silence.

So he stood there for a minute and on a split second decision, he opened the text and finally tapped out a reply, pressing send before he could talk himself out of it.

 _Jason:_  
_You know, Matthew McFayden played a way better Mr Darcy that I expected. Especially considering I had no idea who he was before I watched the movie_

With that he shoved his phone back in his pocket and concentrated on Titus, who appeared way too interested in a cat hanging out at the end of an alley.

“Leave it Titus.” He tugged on the leash gently and the dog obediently backed off, though he kept looking over as they walked by. The cat seemed unfazed, cleaning its face in peace. It wasn’t until they were rounding the corner to Jason’s building and his phone buzzed with a text alert that it occurred to him what he’d just said.

It was about the movie. It was the flipping _Pride and Prejudice_ film that _Bruce had bought him_ nearly eight months ago. He hadn’t even acknowledged the bookstore or anything else Bruce had said. No, he’d made it about the movie. The gift that Bruce had purchased for him that Bruce never actually gave him.

Shit what if he knew it was in the box of Jason’s things? He would know then, he’d make the connection surely.

He felt a clammy sweat break out on the back of his neck as he opened the door to his apartment building.

It didn’t matter. It wasn’t a big deal.

Except that it was a _huge fucking deal._ Because it was _Bruce._ The guy didn’t know how to be direct. He didn’t know how to say what he meant, he communicated in weird gestures and grunts and in turn he read into everything everyone else did. If Bruce made the connection that Jason had not only received his old gift but opened it and enjoyed it he didn’t even know what he would take from that.

Suddenly he felt the urge to pull out his phone and send another message. Some sort of explanation or hint of where the movie came from. That he had watched it online, that it wasn’t just on tv the night before. Except Bruce probably knew he didn’t have cable ‘cause he knew everything.

He was stomping up the stairs with his sockless feet, ankles rubbing on his boots, and it was like his whole stomach seized up. He didn’t even know why. It shouldn’t matter or be a big deal, even if Bruce thought that Jason had a bunch of warm and fuzzy feelings for him suddenly it didn’t affect Jason. He didn’t have to acknowledge it or feed into it at all. Jason could ignore it easily, it wasn’t like Bruce was going to be reaching out to him all the time anyway. They didn’t talk. Not about stuff outside the missions, or apparently personal favors.

Or book stores.

Jason swallowed hard, reaching out and petting at Titus just for something to do as they reached Jason’s floor. He pulled out his keys with stupid clammy hands and unlocked the door. Shut himself and Titus back up inside and went about taking each piece of both of their ensembles off. It was slow moving, his brain was sluggish, like the spooling cursor on a frozen computer his mind was blank.

Because he didn’t want things to go - he didn’t know. He didn’t know what it would mean if Bruce knew he’d watched the stupid movie he’d gotten Jason as a gift when he was still offing people. 

He set his phone on the kitchen counter and didn’t think about it.

There were meals to plan, and things to clean and if his shoulders stiffened when his phone buzzed on the counter top it was nobody’s business. He didn’t look at it. There was no reason to because it was probably nothing. Probably some stupid app notifying him of a sale or the release of some new feature. It wasn’t even worth checking. 

So he ignored it for the majority of the day, even when each buzz against his counter top made him flinch. He ignored it right up until the alerts started coming some three minutes apart and showed no sign of stopping. Thinking there had to be some kind of emergency happening, he finally picked it up to discover he had twenty-three unread messages. 

With a deep sense of foreboding he tapped the notification, already berating himself for being dumb enough to ignore his phone in his line of work-

Except that twenty-one of them were from Damian, the little weasel, and when he actually opened them to see what the damn emergency was there were fifteen messages that amounted to _hellooooooo????_

Jason was tempted to block the little shit’s number until he scrolled back to the top to read the earlier messages.

 _Damian:_  
_I have been informed that you asked Barbara to investigate something on your behalf and while I understand this likely has nothing to do with Titus, I will ask for an update._

____

_You have been giving him his ear drops still correct? The prescription is for seven days regardless of symptoms._

____

_Barbara did not have any information for me when I asked her about your request, I demand more information._

____

_It is unlike you to take so long to reply, unless you are ignoring me on purpose, I demand answers Todd._

____

_If Titus is harmed in any way upon our return I will eviscerate you._

____

_Just send me a photo, I will know if it is current or not._

____

_I demand a reply, Todd._

____

_I will not beg for information._

____

_If this is some attempt to teach me ‘manners’ you will be sorry._

____

_What could you possible be doing at two in the afternoon that makes it impossible to reply?_

____

_Todd, answer me_

____

_Todd._

____

_Please send a reply_

____

_I do not know what you are waiting for from me but I will gladly provide it_

____

_Answer please_

____

_Todd_

____

Every message from that point on was some iteration of Jason’s name and he felt his stomach sink like a stone.

“Shit kid.” He rubbed a hand down his face, feeling like the biggest schmuck in Gotham. He took a minute to come up with a good enough lie and then dove in.

 _Jason:_  
_Shit Damian, I’m sorry, battery on my phone died cause I forgot to plug it in. Left it at the apartment to charge while I was running errands. Titus is completely fine, nothing happened. Just some assholes on patrol making stupid comments._

He found Titus passed out on his couch, sprawled all the way across it, drooling on his single throw pillow and snapped a photo, sent it all together before tapping out another message.

 _Jason:_  
_His ears are doing great, don’t seem to be bothering him at all, I’m being faithful about the drops. Always run the entire course of antibiotics and all that, I haven’t skipped out._

Sitting on the arm of his couch he just watched the little dots appear and disappear that told him Damian was seeing his messages, his gut twisting up in guilt and anger alike. Why the hell had Babs been telling people he asked her to look into something for him? She’d just spent half the morning convincing him she wouldn’t tell a soul if he decided to take a break, that she’d cover for him.

Damian’s reply came a moment later, and while Jason was waiting to be blasted by the kid it was surprisingly mild compared to his expectation.

_Damian:  
I should not be surprised you would do something so idiotic._

Jason heaved a sigh and reach over the armrest of the couch, patting at Titus’ hip, who wheezed out a slightly louder snore in response. Two seconds later another message registered.

 _Damian:_  
_Thank you._

Jason quirked a smile, wondering briefly if he should screenshot the message and send it to Dick, if he’d die of shock and awe - jealousy maybe.

Instead he moved over to the head of the couch, where Titus’ head was resting on a throw pillow, tongue just peeking out of his mouth, whistling snores with every breath. He snapped an up close photo and sent it back with a thumbs up.

Then he hovered over the back arrow, telling himself to just rip off the bandaid. If Bruce was gonna be an asshole putting off the inevitable did nobody any good. There were two messages from him.

 _Bruce:_  
_I was impressed by the film in general, the accuracy was decent and where it differed from the book the feel of the novel was still there._

____

_I hope everything’s alright. If it’s something you don’t want to tell Damian just let me know and I’ll handle it._

Jason was honestly not sure what he expected, but it wasn’t either message.

Bruce made no comment about knowing about the gift. And then Jason thought, _Duh, you idiot._ Alfred was the one who put the box together.

The card had been half destroyed. Bruce wouldn’t have let Alfred give it to him if he’d known about it. And Jason couldn’t think about that either because - what did that mean? He still didn’t get it. Why buy the gift and then never give it to him? Why keep it for so long? Had he been intending to give it to him at some point, and just...never got around to it?

And then the other message. He didn’t even know what Bruce heard from Damian...Or maybe _Babs._ But he would have expected something a little more...accusatory. Instead it was just an offer for help...nothing more nothing less. Even offered to take the brunt of the demon bird’s wrath. Jason tapped at the screen, sitting himself down, criss-cross-applesauce in front of the couch since Titus, the mammoth, was taking up the entire thing.

 _Jason:_  
_They changed the dialogue in some of my favorite scenes though, kinda disappointing._

_And everything’s fine, just off the radar for a bit._

He still wondered if Bruce might know, or at least have some suspicion. The man’s head was like a steel trap, even if he never intended to give the gift to Jason, he probably knew where it was, did he realize it was missing?

 _Bruce:_  
_I’m glad._

_Which scenes? I remember them staying pretty on script for the important ones._

Jason read the message three times, looking for something, for some sign that Bruce was fishing, that he was leading somewhere with the conversation, but he just felt stupid. It was dumb, it was about the damn movie and if Jason thought Bruce read into everything he apparently had nothing on Jason.

He tapped at the side of his phone for a minute, wondering if he wanted to reply, if he wanted to keep the conversation going. 

But it was casual, it was about a movie, it wasn’t any big thing. 

_Jason:_  
_You asking for a line by line comparison? I don’t remember exactly. Mostly the second confession scene, like it was dramatic, but they cut out basically their whole conversation._

 _Bruce:_  
_Hm, I’ll have to rewatch it again soon and refresh my memory._

_Jason:_  
_And ok, that ending? A little sappy for my taste personally._

 _Bruce:_  
_...I suppose._

Jason laughed, couldn’t help it. Of course Bruce would have some secret hard on for sappy romance.

Jason found himself falling into the rhythm of the conversation. The easy back and forth of favorite and least favorite scenes, theories and ideas, characters you love and the ones you love to hate. He got a photo in the middle, of a bookshelf, lined with ancient looking hardbacks and Jason had to pull it up and zoom in to make out the details and realize that the entire shelf was copies of _Pride and Prejudice._

 _Jason:_  
_You go to this place every day of your trip? The demon brat can’t be enjoying that, surely there are other things to do._

Of course he didn’t know that, didn’t know much about Damian at all beyond where he came from and that he acted like a little shit ninety percent of the time.

 _Bruce:_  
_He’s enjoying it. There’s a large art section that he’s found interest in._

And there was another photo attached, a pile of art books on anatomy and landscapes with Damian to the side, sitting at the table, head bent over a notebook with an expression of fierce concentration.

He looked all of his twelve years and it hit Jason in such a weird nostalgic place his stomach twisted into a knot. There were so many trips to the bookstore when Jason was that age. Bruce and Dick had done things like go to an amusement park, or the zoo. He remembered that the elephant from Dick’s circus days, Zitka, was there, so they’d go visit her sometimes, when they weren’t at each other’s throats.

But Bruce and Jason had always gone to the bookstore.

He didn’t reply.

Jason was really just looking for things to do to kill time, that was most of his life lately, feeling pointless. Sometimes when he got restless like this he got weird cravings for Alfred’s baking. A trip to the manor though was...not in the cards for him at this point so instead, he decided he’d make cookies. On an inventory of his cabinets however, he found, despite his earlier grocery run the day before, he was out of sugar and low on flour.

It was easy enough to make a run to the grocery store but it was after five pm and the sun was already down, the temperature would have dropped significantly from earlier in the day. But Jason still needed to take Titus for his evening walk anyway so he might as well make it a two for one deal. He’d hedged away from taking him inside anywhere so far, just because he was so big, but when he’d gone to the corner market before there was a large German Shepherd walking around inside and the checker made a deal of petting it. For being a place that hated people so much Gotham was relatively dog friendly.

So they both bundled up again, properly this time, and headed out.

The thing was, Jason hadn’t lived a normal person’s life since...well ever really, and he found himself entirely disconnected from the general population. Meaning he was totally taken off guard by the amount of people at the store. He didn’t even get it, it was after working hours now so maybe people were stopping at the store on their way home but it seemed so much worse than that to Jason. He didn’t catch on until he saw a woman with three turkeys loaded into her cart with enough dressings to feed an army that _oh right_ , it’s November, holidays are just around the corner.

It was just that the whole thing, the crowd, the bustle of it all, made him nervous. Put this buzzing in the back of his brain that had him scanning people again, looking for threats, for weak spots. He found himself calculating how quickly he could set something off, vault the check out stands, and be out of the store. And people weren’t paying any attention, when he looked around all he saw were sitting ducks, fussing over lists, talking on their cell phones.

Jason could bring the place down in under a minute, and he could see exactly how it would go. He wouldn’t even need anything special, he could probably do it with what he had on him right then.

He was carrying a bag of flour and a back of sugar tucked under one arm, his other hand wrapped so tight in Titus’ leash he could feel the fabric creaking. He was just standing in line, there was nothing special about it, about any of it, but the thought hit Jason like a truck.

_I could kill everyone in here._

Titus nosed at his hand and he flinched, taking in a deep breath, the noise of it covered by the bustle around them. This was a bad idea. Crowds were not for him. Not like this. He concentrated on the cold, wet sensation of Titus’ nose, pressing on the back of his hand, the tongue that followed, warm and a little bit slimy.

He didn’t want to admit how much it helped. Getting through the line and completing his purchase was a blur and by the time he was back in his apartment building Jason felt like a ball of anxiety so tightly compacted he might just spontaneously implode. He was searching for that feeling, the Lazarus green where it lurked in the back of his head, because where else did that come from?

He slammed the flour and sugar on the kitchen counter and ran a hand through his hair because he could feel it, the Pit, like a second heart beat. And the thought was still there.

_I could kill all of them._

He’d done things like that before. Not to innocents but back when he was with the league - there were probably some people who didn’t deserve it, who, if Jason had known the whole store, he never would have agreed to kill.

But he hadn’t asked for the whole story. He’d just done the job, because it was his training, it was what he was there for and he couldn’t say no, didn’t know what would happen if he said no. And it was what he’d wanted, anyway. The thought made him nauseas.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he nearly knocked over the flour. It was a message from Bruce and Jason opened it with numb fingers.

 _Bruce:_  
_There’s some limited editions in that shop I think you would be interested in. I’ll send you some photo’s tomorrow, you can tell me what catches your eye._

Jason swallowed, his lips were numb. He stared at the message and he realized, Bruce had no idea what he was doing, who he was reaching out to. He saw the kid that died in Jason, and then when he got Jason, as he was now, he’d realize it wasn’t right, it wasn’t what he wanted. That’s what it was.

That’s what it was every time. It was why they could never stop the cycle, the runaround of enemies to working allies to something else, and right back again. It would never work, because Jason was too far gone. He was.

He couldn’t even go to the goddamn grocery store.

It was _infuriating_ sometimes, the things Bruce refused to see. Looking at their messages from earlier in the day, it all just felt _fake._ Like they were playing pretend. Like Bruce was his dad that he just lost contact with, they just drifted apart and now they were reconnecting? Please.

 _Jason:_  
_Go have your bullshit fake conversation with someone else._

He tossed his phone on the counter, putting both palms flat on the porcelain tiles and breathing deep through his nose. Even with how ridiculous it felt, in the wake of everything else, he really just needed something to do. To be in motion. And making fucking cookies would do the trick.

The concentration it required to pay attention, measure the ingredients, make sure he didn’t leave anything out, the physical act of mixing and sizing - it helped. It pulled back on the anxiety, pushed his shoulders down away from his ears and slowed his racing heart. Titus came wandering into the kitchen after another loop of the apartment and hovered behind Jason, interested in whatever he was doing.

By the time he put the first batch in the oven he was already regretting the message. Even if it _was_ fake, snapping and making a deal of something innocuous was just gonna get him more attention than he wanted. 

Bruce hadn’t replied and Jason unlocked his phone to stare at the offending text, alternating between anger and anxious guilt. He’d never liked texting, at least when he said stupid shit to someone’s face they could act like it didn’t happen the next time they saw each other. With texts the words were right there every time you brought up the conversation to say something else.

It was stupid. It was so stupid because Jason was right! Whatever Bruce thought he wanted out of this _thing_ he was doing with Jason he wouldn’t get. Jason was just - he wasn’t capable of being the person that Bruce thought he was.

Jason avoided his phone while he finished off his baking, even though he was distinctly aware of the lack of notifications. He played with Titus some, gave him his ear drops, and was just taking the last batch out of the over when his phone buzzed on the counter behind him.

He was standing in the middle of his kitchen and he set the cookie sheet on the stove top and stared at it for a minute. The message could easily be from Damian. Or hell, anybody, maybe Barbara had news on the fighting ring, maybe Dick had a stupid meme to send him like he used to, before Babs said he “changed strategy”.

Taking a deep, slow breath, he started transferring the cookies to a cooling rack and carefully bit a piece off one. He turned around and Titus was standing there, tail wagging, ears up.

“Sorry bud, I learned my lesson, nothing but puppy food for you.” They were sugar cookies, because Titus was so huge Jason was afraid he’d just pop his head over the counter top and eat one, so chocolate chip was out of the question, even if they were his favorite.

And then he bit the bullet, snagging his phone and tapping open the message, wondering what kind of shit show he just started by being a petulant little asshole.

 _Bruce:_  
I’m not sure what you mean.

Jason clenched his hand around his phone, bouncing between irritation and some unknown emotion.

And then his phone started to ring and he startled so hard he dropped it. 

It clattered to the linoleum floor and went shooting to the other side of the kitchen, ricocheting off the side of Titus water bowl with a sharp _ting._ The dog startled but immediately investigated, going to nose around the bowl at the weird object vibrating against it, the sound reverberating in his kitchen like an angry hornet’s nest.

He’d only had a split second to look at the screen, but there was no mistaking it was Bruce that was calling. Jason could only stand there, leaning up against the counter and staring at Titus where he pushed the thing with his nose and then jumped back, shaking his head, looking back at Jason as if to ask, _‘What the hell is that thing? Is it safe?’_

And how the hell should Jason know, really?

He let it ring, feeling frozen in place right until it stopped and he got one more little buzz for another text. Finally unsticking from the counter Jason approached his phone like a snake, as if expecting it to strike back at any moment. What he found was a _‘1 missed call’_ notification and a message that read:

_Is everything alright?_

It was so the opposite of how Jason expected Bruce to react he, for a moment, thought he must be hallucinating.

And then for a split second he wanted to tell him. About the Lazarus, about his issues with crowds, going to the grocery store and planning a detailed escape route in which he blew the place to high heaven.

What he sent instead was: _It’s fine, forget about it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed my random references to _Pride and Prejudice._ It is one of my favorite movies of all time, and my personal headcanon is that a well characterized Bruce would come across a _lot_ like Mr. Darcy...
> 
> This chapter made me kind of nervous to upload for some reason. Like I’m vaguely afraid people won’t like where I’m going with this. But...I’m pretty committed to the storyline so I’m not changing it lol. 
> 
> Poor Jay had a hard time this chapter....which is...only going to get worse, for a while. 
> 
> Please comment if you liked!!! I love reading them.
> 
> (PS Chapter title is from _Okay, I Feel Better Now_ by AFI)


	7. Spirits in my head and they won’t go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A slow morning with Titus that transitions into an ill advised patrol that goes very down hill, very quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings in end notes! There are a few!
> 
> Welcome to chapter seven! A couple things have changed. You may notice I changed my username. It now matches my Tumblr username, to be less confusing. I also changed the description of this fic after a small exchange in the comments and a bit of contemplation as I felt it sort of gave the wrong impression of the story...no need to read it now that you’re already at this point in the fic lol (unless you want to), but if you are searching for it and read the description it may not sound familiar now.
> 
> Also...I didn’t really think I needed to say it, but please keep comments positive. I’m doing this for fun, and because I enjoy it and want to share it with other people who enjoy it. If you disagree with something I write or dislike it for any reason, please don’t feel the need to tell me. If you don’t like it then i didn’t write it for you. Just read this post and I hope you’ll understand —— https://batbirdies.tumblr.com/post/190333159943/heywriters-greenbergsays-kedreeva
> 
> Apologies for my constantly long-ass authors notes I cannot shut up. Thank you for reading!!

Miracle of Miracles Jason slept through the night, Titus pressed tight to his left side. He kept trying to shove him away in his sleep but he was so freaking heavy all he did was push himself closer to the edge of the bed and by the time he woke up he was just barely still on the mattress, dog splayed out next to him.

His morning was slow. Titus got his drops, food, Jason packed up two dozen cookies and wondered why he thought it was a good idea to make a full batch for just himself. He took another dose of antibiotics.

Bruce had eventually responded to his last message from the night before, just a simple, _if you’re sure._

And that morning he had another one, a photo, from Bruce. It looked like it was taken from a hotel room, a large window with a table in front of it, where Damian sat, eyes half lidded, a plate of breakfast in front of him. Behind him, outside the window, the sun was coming up over the city. The Thames was winding through the photo, the sun bright and yellow over the peaks of the tallest buildings in the distance. There was the slightest fog, putting a soft haze over the whole thing, and the clouds were sparse but enough to catch a pink glow at the edges.

It was beautiful, but for the life of him, Jason had no idea what to say back. Or even what Bruce was thinking sending it to him. He fiddled with his phone, staring at the shot for a minute before Titus pushed into the back of his legs.

“Alright, alright, I’m going.” It was early enough, but also late enough, that there weren’t so many people on the street when they went out. As they neared the end of the block they would normally turn around at Jason decided to go ahead and keep going, right on to Hamilton Park where they’d run into the assholes last time. It was sunny outside, so even though it was freezing the warmth of it on his shoulders felt good.

Despite their last experience in the park Titus seemed happy to be let off leash to go find another dog to run around with. Jason watched carefully, scanning for any too familiar faces or a particularly large Rottweiler. But it was quiet, just parents with their kids and their dogs, an old man with a little poodle, a teenage girl with a spotted Australian Shepherd, a lady who couldn’t be anything but a dog walker, surrounded by some six dogs, all different breeds. 

Jason snagged a short video clip of Titus, bent low, front paws stretched out in front of him and tail wagging, in the face of a Corgi who was barking like mad. The Corgi’s owner was laughing, looking around for whoever owned Titus, Jason gave a half wave and the guy returned a thumbs up. He sent it to Damian, still feeling a hint of guilt at making him worry so much the day before. His arm itched pretty insistently and he wasn’t sure if it was being at the park or because the infection wasn’t clearing up like it should be. He started thinking about maybe stopping by Leslie’s, maybe she would have a wound wash she could give him or just stronger pills.

He sat on one of the benches scattered around and opened the photo, wondering, again, what he was supposed to say back. Damian replied to his video while he was sitting there staring at it.

 _Damian:_  
_I have wanted another dog for some time, I believe it would be beneficial for Titus’ exercise but Father still says no._

Jason smirked at it.

 _Jason:_  
_Hey, I never got a dog growing up, you’ve got half a barnyard already, be happy._

 _Damian:_  
_Yes, that is Father’s general reaction as well. He asks if you considered his question about the books._

Jason blinked at that. Somehow feeling surprised that Bruce apparently...talked about him. Which was stupid. They were both messaging him and he was watching their dog, it only made sense. And it gave Jason a way to respond to Bruce without seeming like he was ignoring his last message. He reopened the conversation and tapped out a reply.

 _Jason:_  
_They got any Mary Shelly? Or an illustrated copy of the Hobbit?_

He wasn’t even sure why he was playing along, like he was expecting Bruce to buy him some expensive, limited edition classic novel or something. It was ridiculous. But then an hour later he got a picture of both books, laid out next to each other on an old oak table.

 _Bruce:_  
_I’ve been chatting with the owner of the store here, seeing if he’d ever be interested in expanding._

Jason scoffed, he had his laptop open on the counter where he sat on a bar stool, trying to browse for a new wireless router since the lag was getting to him. But unironicaly, hardly anything would load.

 _Jason:_  
_Might be hard to find anybody willing to move to Gotham from London just to open a bookstore. Not sure the profit would be there, probably more bibliophiles in England._

 _Bruce:_  
_Hm, but if it was sponsored by Wayne Enterprises...I’m in negotiations._

 _Jason:_  
_What’s the big deal?_

 _Bruce:_  
_I’d just really like you to see this place._

Jason swallowed roughly, setting his phone down on the counter and clicking aimlessly at his laptop, waiting for the spooling page to load.

He opened a new tab to check his current bank balance. His rent was due in a few days and he figured he would go ahead and send it now, to be safe. Catching sight of the total funds though made his stomach lurch. It was less than he remembered. Not horrifically so, not in an emergency kind of way, but with all his normal bills and costs of regular life he probably only had about two more months worth to live on. It meant he needed to find a way to get more.

Which was normally simple enough. In the past he’d just track down a higher level smuggler, weapons, or drug dealer, shut him down and steal whatever funds he had lying around in cash. Because they always had cash. But Jason hadn’t had his eyes and ears on organized crime for a little while. He was gonna need to start from scratch, which meant it could take a while before he found the right people.

He replied to Bruce’s text.

 _Jason:_  
_There’s bookstores in Gotham, I’m sure I’ll live._

Even though he hadn’t been to one in he didn’t know how long. He sort of wanted to. He didn’t live far from the Gotham Public Library where he was and considering how much of his days felt wasted in recent times he thought he might. Jason was a lover of classics and he re-read his favorites on the regular but he wasn’t opposed to new stories either, it just took a little more of a keen eye to filter through for something good.

It was a peaceful day. And Jason wouldn’t admit it but he freaking needed one. 

It was when patrol time rolled around that he started to feel a little edgy.

He skipped the night before, after his freak out moment in the grocery store and this every-other-night thing wasn’t ideal but it was better than staying in more than he went out. There was just an edge of nerves to the idea after the last time. Even though the circumstances weren’t ideal. Really it was fine, Jason could handle it.

Plus his head felt...stable, he thought. Not to mention that since he had been cutting back on deep op’s he found his days feeling rambling and pointless, filled to the brim with useless fluff. There was a growing need in his gut to get out there, do something with his time and energy that was actually useful, productive, _something,_ instead of staying holed up in his apartment just reading books and cooking.

His dwindling funds weren’t far from his mind either, and while Barbara’s offer of a break was still floating around in the back of his head, it wasn’t an easy thing to consider when you had no other backing. Crime only kicked up around the holidays, he needed to keep an eye on things. Wanted to feel like he was actually doing something instead of just _existing_ in his apartment with Titus.

Titus was asleep in his bed when he headed out, slipping down to his bunker and out on the streets on his bike in near silence.

Fighting crime with the main purpose of stealing money still did feel a little on the uncool side to Jason but he also couldn’t give a rip. Especially in Gotham. The police force were half corrupt. Even if they ended up arresting, charging, and successfully putting away the people that Red Hood might catch, their money either went into an evidence locker for a year or more or it got pocketed by the less than honest cops on the case. All Jason did was skip the line.

So he did a cursory check on Crime Alley, stopped a couple muggings, sent a hopelessly lost tourist on their way in a cab, checked on the working girls, and then he headed to the docks.

There were a lot in the city, but the busiest and largest was Port Adams, off Old Gotham. If you were looking to catch a smuggler of any kind, whether it be fake handbags, illegal weapons, or drugs, nearly everything came in from the docks. The little island that Gotham was could be accessed by car or truck of course but it wasn’t possible to get a shipment of the size that Jason was looking for that way.

When he arrived, things were more bustling than usual. Probably, again, the holidays. And so Jason took his time moving through the shadows. Observing from the tops of shipping containers and listening for anything that might not be aboveboard. Thankfully his helmet had good enough tech he could amplify voices if he pinpointed his target correctly. It was mostly just a bunch of stressed out shoresmen trying to get UPS packages to their proper stations so they could be loaded onto delivery trucks the next morning.

He did find a target though. Hood was hugging the northernmost dock, sitting on top of a double stack of containers, watching a singular man standing outside another, dressed in all black, beanie covering his hair, keeping out of the dock lights and hissing angrily on a cell phone he was covering with his other hand. His breath puffed out in angry white clouds of condensation.

_“I don’t care what your schedule is like, we have product, it needs moving, so you get here and you move it.”_

The amplification on his helmet wasn’t quite enough to catch the other end of the conversation but it became clear what was going on quickly enough.

_“It’s the holidays, people will think you’re visiting family or out sick, no one’s gonna notice kid.”_

There was a pause as whoever was on the other line spoke, muffled noise all Jason could make out in his helmet. The guy cracked his neck and turned toward the container, hunching his shoulders over. When he spoke again his voice came out rough and gravelly, like he was barely holding back from screaming.

_“Listen you little shit. I don’t give a rat’s ass about your ninth grade aspirations. You needed money, you came to me. This is how you make money. I need all the runners. All of ‘em. That includes you and your runt little brother. If you ain’t in place tomorrow at six, you can forget about the payment, and you better watch your damn back next time Mark drops by your school._

_“You don’t get into this game and then just drop out kid. You made the decision to get in on this, and now you deal with the consequences. It’s the holidays, things pick up, everybody and their brother needs a little diesel in their veins this time of year. You’re doing ‘em a favor.”_

He hung up the phone.

Jason was crouched low, a hand planted against the metal top of the container. His other hand went to a gun on his hip, shaking with barely suppressed rage.

Heroin. The guy was moving heroin with school kids. Why he was at the docks made less sense, since heroin wasn’t generally an import drug. That was until he pounded on the side of the container he was standing in front of before undoing the latch, opening the left side door. 

“How’s it coming?” He asked whoever was inside. A girl’s voice replied, followed by a boy’s, both young sounding, high school age probably.

“Are they-? What the _fuck.”_ He whispered to himself, because based solely on the eerie light coming from the container, the fact that there were people inside and this dude was apparently a heroin dealer, they had to be making the stuff in there.

It made a weird sort of sense. The cops didn’t pay the docks a ton of attention, too much going in and out at all hours of the day, plus custom’s agents were around and it was their job. Jason was sure every single one of them must be paid off since illegal goods had been siphoning into the city since long before Jason’s career in a mask had started.

Long before Bruce’s even.

Jason leapt off the container into a practiced landing roll, hopping up and tucking himself to the side, closer to better hear the conversation.

“We need to double this.” The man said.

“I know that’s what you said but I don’t think we have enough supplies to double the batch-” The girl spoke, sounding nervous.

“Did I ask you? Make it work or you won’t be leaving by sunrise.”

“But - that’s not-”

Of everything this moldy piece of shit had been spouting since Jason caught onto him, this was what did it.

Because Jason’s mom had been a user. A cancer patient first, desperate for relief she could no longer get at a pharmacy for insurance premiums and bullshit prescription laws. Heroin was the cheaper option, the best one she had, and while Jason would never know exactly what killed her - overdose being the official ruling, he would bet the shit she was getting in this city wasn’t pure.

Half the danger of street drugs was what was mixed in.

The fact that he had fucking teenagers with a gift for chemistry mixing it for him, (in a _shipping container_ of all things, that definitely did not have good ventilation and was likely to get the both of them killed) and more dealing on the streets. It was a combination that was precisely horrible enough to push him just the wrong side of furious.

From the sounds of it there were only the three of them inside. Jason spared a split second to think of the kind of bank roll this guy must have if he was able to keep his operation this small, then he _moved._

He kicked the already partially open door wide and drew a gun, pointing it directly at the man he’d watched on the phone. All three of them jumped. The kids, two teenagers, just like Jason had thought, were dressed in homemade hazmat suits with gas masks around their necks. At least they were smart, but they looked terrified. The girl was Asian, dark hair pulled into a bun, mouth partially open in tense fear, eyes wide. The boy was white, tall, thin, wearing glasses with lenses so thick they could start a fire. He looked blank, but so stiffly frozen in place Jason thought he might be looking at a mannequin. 

There were plastic buckets sealed and stacked in the back corner, three large foldable tables pushed against one wall covered in portable cooktops with pots on each, boiling away. A few glass and plastic bottles sat scattered around, measuring cups, and one large white plastic container labeled _CHLOROFORM_ in black permanent marker.

Large lamp stands were set up in the corners, blaring 500 watt white lights, hooked up to extension cords that all ran towards the back. Everything was cast in long sharp shadows, and there was enough steam in the place it was noticeably warmer inside.

And then there was the singular adult, standing in the center of the space looking entirely unimpressed. Up close, Hood was similarly underwhelmed. He was average in height, a little bit of a paunch, thick brown hair and mustache, indeterminate race, heavy five o’clock shadow and beady little eyes. The guy was standing there with his phone in his hand, looking totally incredulous when Jason took a step forward.

“Kids, go home.” Jason spoke loud enough that the statement couldn’t be mistaken for anything else. The girl started to move but the man threw out a hand.

“No way in hell. Who do you think you are coming in here?” At this the boy faltered, looking at the back of their leaders head in terror.

“That’s _Red Hood.”_ He hissed.

“Oh good, Little Red Riding Hood decided to pay a visit?” He sneered and both teens paled.

“That’s right.” Jason drawled out, feeling green lightning crackling up his spine, “Little Red here, would like the kids to get going before the situation gets serious.” He had to hand it to the guy, while being held at gun point he still managed to keep his head like nothing changed. Guy didn’t even know they were rubber bullets. 

Must be new in town if he didn’t know Red Hood’s reputation, ‘Cause the kids clearly did.

“You heard me.” He spoke up for the kids, motioning to the side with his gun and head. “Scram.” They both glanced at each other and before anything else could happen the girl took off, not even seeming to register the yell from her boss.

“Sarah you get the hell back here!” The guy screeched, taking three heavy steps after her and reaching to grab the back of her suit. Jason took a warning shot that whizzed past his head and the girl ducked, shrieking and clapping her hands over her ears.

The boy flinched and froze again, going back to a deer in headlights, jaw so tight Jason could practically hear his teeth cracking. The girl stumbled, nearly running into him, forcing Jason to put out a hand to steady her. She jerked back and fumbled into the metal wall and in the meantime Mustache Man had put his hands in the air, and was spitting curses like it was making him money.

“Do you think I’m joking?!” Hood took a step forward, feeling adrenaline pumping through his veins like it always did after firing a round, lethal or not. That signature tint was hazing up his eyes and he blinked it back, gripping his gun tight.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?!” Mustache screamed.

Jason took another step forward, furious, and looked at the girl cowering to the side. “You need to go.” He growled, deep in his chest. But she just took a shaky breath and looked back at the blonde boy. 

“Seth.” Jason couldn’t hear her over the uninterrupted stream of bluster coming from Mustache, but he could read her lips and the way her hands shook. 

Jason shook his gun in the guys face, feeling his heart pounding in his ears like a war drum. This was out of hand, he needed to get it under control.

“Move to the wall!” He fired another shot over the guy’s shoulder, and he flinched back, but he didn’t move. Jason had a split second to wonder how badly he was traumatizing these kids before he pressed on. “I am Red Hood, and you are going to be sorry if you don’t listen to me right now.”

“H-he’s one of the Bat’s, Mark.” The blonde kid, Seth spoke up, audible only because the man was sucking in a new breath. He heaved for air but he didn’t keep going, eyes snapping to the kid. “He works with Batman and the others.” Mark paled and Jason realized, watching his eyes dart back and forth, that he was remembering stories about him, finally making the connection.

“He- he’s killed people before.” The kid’s voice shook that time and Mark finally looked back at him, scowling heavily in spite of the obvious fear in his eyes.

Jason might be out of that game right now, but he still leaned into it. “That’s right _Mark,_ I have. And you know the kind of people I hate the most? Drug dealers who cut their product, violent pimps, and people who use kids to do their dirty work. You are batting two for three my friend. It’s not looking good for you. But if you let the kids go, I’ll go easy on you. We can call the cops, you go to jail, you tell me where you keep your cash and I’ll be outta your hair.” 

There was a deep gravel to his voice Jason barely recognized, feeling the heat of the Pit still swirling in his stomach like acid. 

Finally, Mark moved, shuffling backwards toward the wall, hands still in the air. Jason looked back at the boy and motioned him forward. “Go, you and the girl get outta here.” It took a second for the kid to unstick his feet from the floor but he finally, jerkily, began to walk toward the entrance, hands up just like Mark’s. 

It was just as he was walking past the man that thing’s got frighteningly out of hand. Jason could see it just before it happened but he wasn’t fast enough to react. Mark shot an arm out and grabbed the kid, dragging him by the shoulder to his front and wrapping an arm around his chest.

Jason started toward him, adrenaline and whatever else pushing him forward like something unstoppable, right up until he pulled a knife and brought it to the kid’s throat. Jason froze, staring at the wide, terrified eyes of a teenage boy.

 _“What the fuck are you doing?!_ If you don’t let that kid go right now, I will shoot you in the _head.”_

“You’d risk it? A bat? Shooting an innocent _kid?”_ He shoved the boy forward pushing until they both stood in the center of the container, meanwhile, the girl was still huddled against the opposite wall, now silently crying.

“Let him go Mark!” She screamed, voice cracking with it.

“Shut the hell up!”

“How do you see yourself getting out of this pal? I ain’t leaving until you let the kid go!”

“Oh?” He pressed the knife into his neck and the kid’s breath hitched, holding perfectly still. “If you don’t put the gun down I’ll slit his throat.”

Jason sucked in a shaky breath, feeling like his lungs were filling with water.

“And I’ll fucking kill you if you do.” His vision was going green, clouding up with it. He wasn’t sure if the guy was serious or not. These peddlers, drug dealers, they were the scum of the earth. He took a minute to curse himself for not just waiting until the kids were gone, or the guy stepped out. He jumped the gun, literally, and now this kid was in danger.

The boy let out a hitched whimper and flinched when a tiny bead of blood welled up at the knife. Tears were swimming in his eyes and Jason could fight the pit, for this, he could fight the urge in him telling him to risk it and fire straight through the guys _eyes. Fuck rubber bullets._

He took a deep breath, and he folded. Jason lowered his arm, pointing the gun down, he crouched slowly, setting it on the ground next to him. Jason could take the guy in hand to hand anyway, knife or no.

“There, now let the kid go.”

“No way, you think I’m stupid? We’re all gonna walk out of here, and I’m gonna watch you take that helmet off, get in whatever vehicle you came here in and _leave._ Then I’m gonna do the same, we can act like we never saw each other.”

He pushed the kid forward and they started to walk toward Jason.

He should have waited. He should have done his fucking research. He was sloppy, he was _stupid._

Hood stood where he was and the guy stopped a couple steps from him, “You think I won’t do it? You said yourself I’m a drug dealer using kids for my dirty work, what’s a little blood on my hands?”

“If you don’t drop that knife right fucking now I’ll kill you. I will _end you.”_ He let out a thin, whispery laugh.

“Better than prison pal. Been there, done that.” And Jason could see then, just how much he had underestimated this man. Not his capabilities or his competency, but his sheer lack of fear and capacity for cruelty. He could see it in his eyes like he remembered some of the guys Willis used to do jobs for. They came around the apartment when he was little, to talk shop or collect money owed. He learned early on to hide when certain ones showed up, remembered being ignored most of the time, but then there were some of them, some of them that thought it was funny to scare him, make little seven year old Jason cry. Not like Willis was gonna do anything about it.

There was that same glint in his eyes. 

The boy’s breathing was speeding up, fast enough and loud enough to be a distraction and Jason could tell he was about to hyperventilate, could see the panic in the kid’s glazed over eyes.

Jason took a step back, hands held in the air.

“Prison time won’t be long if you get caught cooking heroin. Murdering a teenager though - I’d reckon that’d be a lot worse.” 

“Stop talking or I’ll do it now.” Jason almost choked on his next inhale, watching the kid panic was making his chest tight.

“Kid you gotta slow your breathing.” His wide, frightened eyes flicked to Jason and immediately away, like he barely registered the words. “You need to listen to me kid, Seth.” Even his name did nothing, eyes staring at the ceiling like he was praying for an angel. 

“You have to calm down Seth. Even out your breathing.” 

“I told you to _shut up.”_

“You need to _exhale_ Seth.” His breathing was taking on that wheezy, rabbit quickness and then he shut his eyes entirely.

 _“Shut up!”_ Jason clipped his mouth shut, jaw so tight it hurt, his own tense panic seeming to clear his head of the pit, at least temporarily. 

“You, get out of here.” Jason tried for the girl, one more time, but she just shook her head at him, still crouched against the wall. 

“Back. Up.” Mark pushed forward, the kid tripping over his own feet as Jason watched a line of blood trickle down his neck in the bright lights and shadows and Jason didn’t know what to do. The kid was either going to puke or pass out and with a knife to his neck it wasn’t likely to be pretty either way.

“You need to let the kid go.”

“We’ve been over this. _Back up.”_

“That boy is going to throw up or fall-“

“Stop talking! And _move!”_

_“This is not going to end how you-“_

_“I don’t want to hear another-“_

They were yelling over each other, voices gaining in volume and clashing together to creat an unintelligible mash of words, right up until the kid just - dropped.

Mark staggered under the sudden weight, the knife shifting, the girl screamed, Jason saw another flash of blood and was moving before he could think better of it. He darted forward, grabbing the arm with the knife and yanking it away from the kid, disarming him with a swift twist to the wrist and barely managing to catch the boy with his other arm when he fell like a sack of potatoes.

Mark dashed around him, moving faster than expected for his bulk and Jason couldn’t catch him, too preoccupied with dragging the kid over to the girl and checking the cut on his neck. “It’s shallow, he’ll be fine.” And Jason was telling the truth, it wasn’t deep, didn’t nick anything important but the blood on his hand and the sight of an unconscious kid with a cut on his neck had Jason seeing _green._

When he turned to the door he registered that his gun was gone from the ground but he didn’t care, he raced out after the guy with nothing left in him but the urge to _hurt._ All his reasoning, all his control, it was gone, evaporated like steam off his shoulders.

A shot rang out as soon as he stepped out of the open door, ricocheting off the metal container. Red Hood didn’t flinch, just narrowed in on where the shot came from. He was just conscious enough to remember that the bullets were rubber and he let himself get shot. They hurt like scorpion stings but Jason had had worse and he was on the guy after three shots, even as he scrambled backward.

They grappled briefly, Jason shoving him to the ground, on top of him. The gun went off between them, right into his chest plate and he lost his breath for an instant before he wrenched the gun from his hands and threw it away from them. Mark clearly wasn’t unfamiliar with a fight. He knocked him in the head pretty hard but in his state and with the helmet it just felt like bugs on a windshield. 

Jason was bigger, stronger, and _angrier_ than this man and he didn’t stand a chance. He hit him so hard in the face the man was momentarily stunned and then Jason’s hands were around his neck.

Jason didn’t feel anything. What little awareness he had of his surroundings before faded like mist in the wind.

There was nothing in the world but the man below him on the tarmac, nothing but the sensation of flesh under his gloved hands, a pulsing heart beat struggling under the pressure of his grip, the choked noises of a dying man like a gasping fish. The way he bucked his whole body trying to upend Jason’s weight, his spine twisting and seizing. The hands wrapped so tightly around his wrists it should hurt, it should be searing against the wound still covered in bandages but it wasn’t, it didn’t feel like anything. And Jason stared into those bloodshot, bulging eyes, taking in the fear, the panic, the sheer instinct that took over when you were staring death in the face.

It felt like the ocean.

Like Jason was swimming in viscous green water, his lungs straining for air, ears filled with a rushing pulse. He couldn’t see through it, he didn’t know where the surface was, where to swim, nothing but green, green, green and Jason was _drowning_ in it.

It felt like a split second. It felt like a time jump, like the crashing of a wave being thrown head over heels into rough waters, and finally struggling to break the surface only to find that hours had passed since you went under.

Jason blinked back to himself in the quiet and the dark of the shipyard. Nothing but his own labored breathing and the distant sounds of cranes and operating vehicles.

The form beneath him was still.

Jason fumbled, scrambled backward on his hands like a terrified child until he was three feet away staring at the open eyes of a motionless body, limp arms and legs splayed out to the sides.

 _“Fuck.”_ It came out a strangled whisper. “Fuck. No. _No.”_ The words didn’t get any louder but it was like he was screaming. That was how his brain felt, like it was burning from the inside out.

This couldn’t have happened. It couldn’t. He did not _do this._ There had to be - maybe - he tore off his gloves, lurching half to his feet and falling back to the ground on his knees, kneeling at the man’s shoulder, he pressed shaking fingers to his carotid. For a second there was nothing, and Jason couldn’t think, couldn’t formulate anything because all there was was static in his head.

And then there was a beat. It was faint, and thready, but it was there, and he nearly went boneless before he was moving. He grabbed the guy by the wrists, pulling him into a half seated position, dragging him then by the arms to lean against his shoulder. He thrusted his hands under Mark’s ass, hauled him over his right shoulder and stood, all in a singular motion. His bike wasn’t far but it was far enough and the guy was just as heavy as he looked, but there was enough adrenaline pumping through Jason’s veins to power a freight train.

Fumbling with a limp, full grown man was not easy, and trying to get him propped on the fucking motorcycle in a way that Jason could actually support his weight so he wouldn’t go flying off on the first turn had him cursing in three different languages.

 _Leslie._ He kept thinking. He had to get him to Leslie. She could fix it, she could save him, and Jason wouldn’t have - wouldn’t have this on his hands, if he could _just-_

In the end he had him behind him on the bike, used zip ties to fasten his arms around Jason’s chest, thanked his lucky stars that he was broad enough it was a tight fit. He leaned forward as far as he could, trying to shift his center of gravity so his head wouldn’t roll back and then he was taking off at a breakneck speed even Batman would frown at.

He didn’t know what happened to the kids, he’d just left them in the makeshift lab, panicked and bleeding but they would live and Jason couldn’t say the same for this guy.

He knew the risks here. Even if he woke up later and seemed ok the damage to his esophagus could cause post traumatic swelling and completely block his airway. More immediately, whatever damage Jason did to his throat could still be blocking it partway, cutting off enough oxygen to slowly bleed his brain of life.

Jason knew all of those things but he wasn’t thinking about them. Instead he was mapping his way to the clinic in his head and trying not to vibrate out of his skin. He was damned lucky it was close. He shot down Dini highway without looking and cut off a sedan that blared its horn behind him but he was out of earshot before the horn even stopped, just fading in the distance as his speed climbed. They passed a semi and two SUV’s before they hit Madison Bridge, cutting to Oldman Avenue and down an alley to the backside of Leslie’s clinic.

He fumbled briefly trying to get off the bike with arms still ziptied around his chest, before he managed to pull a knife and slice the plastic, barely catching Mark’s weight before he fell sideways off the bike. The fact that he hadn’t regained consciousness was not helping Jason’s state of mind and all he could do was keep moving, keep going, get Leslie, she would fix it, she would _fix it._

His arms shook when he hoisted the man up again, but Jason had no idea if it was from adrenaline or fatigue or _terror._ He pounded up the steps behind the building and kicked the door nearly as hard as he could three times in quick succession. He knew she would be there. Of all the ways this night could have gone wrong that wasn’t one of them, but he still had to pound on the door again with enough force to dent the veneer, finally giving in and yelling for her.

_“Leslie! Open up!”_

When the door opened it happened so fast Jason nearly fell backward down the steps, barely managing to catch himself with his free hand on the guardrail so he could stare at a blank faced Dr. Thompkins for all of five seconds before she grabbed him by the arm and yanked him inside.

“What happened? Who is this?” She led him back down a long hallway to a treatment room, the kind she kept set up for emergencies, stocked with enough equipment to bring the dead back to life and Jason prayed to anyone listening that she wouldn’t have to.

“I-I don’t know. It was- it was an accident.” But his voice shook with the lie of it and Leslie gave him a cutting stare before she motioned to a steel table in the middle of the room.

“Set him down, gently, and _tell me what happened.”_ Jason did so, stepped back, and stared at his handiwork.

It was too early for real bruises to have formed, but in the glaring light of the clinic he could see that his left eye was swollen shut, the skin around his neck was bright red, like he’d been burned, and darkening every minute.

“I- He was-”

“Jason I need _answers.”_ She was already at the head of the table, checking his pulse, shining a light in his eyes, she tipped his head back and listened to his breathing with a stethoscope, eyes staring into the distance for a brief second before they snapped back to Jason when he still hadn’t responded. 

“Did you choke this man?” she said with no inflection, and it was the only reason Jason could even answer.

“Yes.” The word was small and sharp, like everything about Jason felt.

“For how long? When did he lose consciousness?”

“I - I don’t know.”

“Where did you bring him from? How long was the drive?” She was moving again, pulling drawers out on the other side of the room until she pulled out a weird hook shaped tool with a light at the end of it and drew out a length of thin tubing and a manual oxygen pump.

“We came from Port Adams, didn’t take more than three minutes to get here, tops.”

“And you have no idea how long his oxygen was cut off?” She was propping his mouth open, tilting his head back, using the curved tool to look inside and finally sliding it down into his mouth.

“I- No - I don’t.” His fingers twitched at his sides, “W-what are you doing?”

“I’m intubating him.”

“Be- is it - is he gonna be ok?”

She spared the briefest glance up, eyes sharp and unreadable. “Without a CT scan I don’t know the damage to his trachea but his breathing didn’t sound good and it’s possible the hyoid bone is broken. I need to restore airflow as quickly as possible.”

Jason watched her work, frozen to the floor. “But he’ll be ok, once you do that.”

“I don’t know Jason, it depends on how long he’s been without air, which you apparently don’t know.” This time her voice had that hint of scorn he’d been waiting for. The curved tool went into the man’s mouth and just kept going, down his throat until it stopped and Leslie picked up the thin cut of tubing and inserted it into an opening in the back of the tool already down his throat.

She looked up at him then, “Wheel that machine over here, will you?” She motioned with her chin to a square computer looking thing in a box that Jason took for a breathing machine. He did what she asked though he wasn’t entirely sure how, with the way his hands and feet were going numb.

“He’s gonna be ok.” Jason said, more to himself than Leslie.

“I don’t know.” she said back, firm and unyielding. “I need to do imaging, run tests, I don’t know Jason.” He sucked in a noisy breath, could feel his lips going numb, recognized it, absently, as a sign of a panic attack.

“He’ll live though.” He choked out. But Leslie didn’t speak, only continued her work. She attached the manual oxygen pump to the end of the plastic tubing and pumped slow and deliberate three times. “Doc, he’ll live, right? He’s gonna survive.”

Jason took off his helmet, feeling too hot and like he couldn’t get enough air through the ventilator.

“Who is this man Jason?”

“I-” He swallowed, throat tight and painful. “Just some drug dealer, I don’t know.” And he held onto that, grasping for something to make him feel better about this. He was a drug dealer, scum of the earth, he held a _knife_ to a kid’s neck.

“And he got on your bad side, apparently.”

“He - there were kids, he was, he held a boy _hostage.”_

“Oh, and this boy’s immediate safety relied on you strangling this man into unconsciousness?” Her words were scathing, losing the neutral tone altogether.

“It was an accident.”

“An _accident_ Jason?”

“I-” But he had no explanation. Nothing he could say to possibly explain it to her. Where Batman disapproved of killing, Leslie Thompkins disapproved of _Batman._ She wasn’t going to care, she wasn’t going to take any of his hollow excuses.

“I can’t talk about this with you Jason. I have work to do. You should go.” Jason stood there, feeling like his lungs were filled with sand while he watched her work, connecting pieces of equipment to the machine he’d wheeled over, looking at readouts, adjusting knobs and dials, pushing buttons Jason had no idea did what.

“He’ll live.” Jason said again, voice smaller than he wanted it to be, “Just - just tell me he’s not gonna die because of this.” She looked up at him, eyes hard and unsympathetic.

“He’ll live Jason. You did not kill this man, but there’s no telling whether he’ll wake up yet or if he has permanent brain damage, so I’m not sure how much that counts for.”

That was all he needed.

It was all he could take.

 _He’ll live, he’ll live, he’ll live, he’ll live._ He repeated it in his head, over and over again as he turned from Leslie and the dead beat drug dealer he’d nearly strangled to death and he fled. He could barely manage to mount his bike, feeling like he was made of jelly, like he was a two dimensional being that had lost his outline.

The ride back to his apartment was a blur. He didn’t even stash the bike in his bunker. He left it in an alleyway that was reasonably dark, stripped off his helmet and mask, and stashed them in a locked compartment on the bike so he could stumble up his building’s stairwell without another stop in between. 

He dropped his keys twice trying to get his door unlocked, his hands were shaking so much. The fact that he couldn’t feel his fingers didn’t help and he had the bizarre thought that he hoped none of his neighbors were up, that no one saw him like this. Barely able to hold it together long enough to _open his damn door._

Jason slammed the door open and shut it behind him, like he could shut out the pit with it. There was an overwhelming sense that something was following him, watching his every move, that it was bearing down on him and he just wanted to _hide._

He was terrified.

Terrified of what just happened and of how he could still feel the pulse of it in the back of his head, like a tug on the base of his skull, the echoing hunger of it.

He turned on all the lights, one by one, trying to count his breaths, to calm down, but he couldn’t stop moving. He was pacing, back and forth, back and forth, doing loops through his living room.

The feeling of his gloved hands closing around a neck was overwhelming him. He didn’t want to do this. This tipping over.

The nightmares were supposed to be _dreams_ but he wasn’t going to wake up from this.

He was seeing spots, enough that he slumped to the floor midway from his front door to the first bedroom, sliding down against the wall, boneless. He saw blood shot eyes, petechiae so heavy they just looked red. Like a demon staring at him, like his own goddamn _soul_ looking at him, judging him.

There were things Jason did, when he came back from the League, that he didn’t really remember. Things that faded over time, or never made enough of an impression to stick in the first place. But everything now was like neon lights shining through the backs of his eyes, like flashing signals he couldn’t ignore. It was a highlight reel. All the brightest, blazing memories of his time conquering the city.

He saw his hands, grabbing someone by the hair, slamming them into the ground, felt the righteous fury of it come up in his chest. Felt the recoil of a gun reverberate up his arm as he watched the bullet explode though skull. Saw blood - _everywhere_ , smelled it. Felt the snap of bone under nothing but his hands, the rending of flesh under a Bowie knife so sharp it slid through like there was nothing in its path. Like this was the space it was always meant to take and someone was just in the way.

Jason fumbled, on his knees, through the doorway to the bathroom and vomited in the toilet, barely reaching the bowl. And then he did it again.

The feeling of a tongue against the side of his face was so startling he couldn’t stop from jolting, elbowing Titus in the chest hard enough to hurt, probably.

“Shit.”

Titus grunted, backing up one step, carefully avoiding Jason’s legs. The dog stared at him, head low, ears down, tail wagging low behind him. “I’m sorry.” Jason whispered just as Titus let out a soft whine and pushed forward again, right into Jason’s space where he was leaned up against the bathtub. He licked at his face, tongue lapping insistently over his nose and eyes and the side of his ear, enough to make him sputter, the smell of dog breath somehow welcome over everything else in his head. Titus folded down, wedging his massive body between the toilet and the tub next to Jason and laid himself across his legs.

“Titus.” His breath caught, shaking hands coming up around the broad chest of this massive animal. His spine curved, the weight of his shoulders suddenly feeling like a cinder block, bowing him forward until he’d curled over the dog. Forehead pressed to the side of his neck while he insistently licked at anything he could reach; Jason’s hair, the back of his sweat damp shirt, his hands where they clutched at the soft fur and pliable skin. He whined again, pressing all of his 200 pounds up against him.

And Jason couldn’t do anything but sit there, barely holding on, feeling like he was shaking apart, like a faulty engine losing pieces with every lurching jolt forward. He didn’t even realize he was crying until Titus shoved himself up, licking at his tears like he was trying to comfort a puppy, whining high and insistent.

“I’m ok.” He gasped out, “I’m alright.”

He wasn’t.

Sitting down, even with Titus half laying on his legs, the dog was taller than him, his head reaching up high enough that he sort of just - fit around him, Titus tucked his face into Jason’s shoulder and licked at his ear.

The concept of time was lost to him. There was nothing more than his numbing ass under the weight of this huge animal on his cheap linoleum floors. Nothing more than breath on the side of his neck and an insistent tongue, smoothing over his hair until it was stiff with dried saliva.

It was weird, and uncomfortable but Jason focused on it. Pushed down on the knotted ball of dread that had lodged itself just under his lungs.

He wanted Bruce.

The feeling hit him out of nowhere, like he’d just swung his grapple line square into a brick wall. He wanted his _dad._

But that wasn’t Bruce. He hadn’t been that- not for a long time. Jason was still - he was still _angry_ and he wasn’t - he was no one’s _son._

He nearly reached for his phone anyway. Thought about tugging it out of his pocket and dialing him, just to hear his stupid, rumbling voice. It would be morning in London. 

But that was fucking _pathetic._

And he couldn’t. Because what was this?

The very idea of Bruce knowing he’d lost himself, lost all control and nearly strangled a man to death, conscious decision or not, made him want to lean over and hurl again. He couldn’t do that. Wouldn’t be able to bare Bruce’s judgment on top of his own.

There were people who deserved to die. Jason held on to that. Because he knew it was true. Something universal he had known since before he was even Robin, a thought he knew didn’t stem from The Pit. He’d killed as Red Hood fully aware of what he was doing, fully in control. But this time it hadn’t been a choice he made and that was what scared him.

Things were ok with Bruce. He was talking to him, texting him, sending him pictures of the sunrise and talking about stupid books and it was so fake. It was so ridiculous but Jason still didn’t want to _ruin it._

It was selfish, because he knew beyond a doubt that if Bruce knew the truth about Jason, about his various slip ups and the constant urges, he wouldn’t want this with him. He would look at Jason like he had back then, back when he’d been mindlessly mowing through Gotham’s criminal class, the _disappointment,_ the _disapproval._ And Jason was angry about it, because it wasn’t fair. 

_It wasn’t fair._

He hated Bruce for never caring when he needed him before. He hated him for acting like everything was fine now, like there wasn’t a mountain of poorly buried issues between them. He hated him for the whiplash of being yanked around every other month, the rules always changing.

He pushed down the sick shame that he might deserve the disapproval now. Even if he didn’t before. Because he was better, he should be in _control._

Jason didn’t call Bruce. He waited until his legs could support his weight and he gently urged Titus off his lap so he could stand up. His arm was throbbing, and he thought it had been for a long time, just below the surface of everything else pressing down on him. 

Titus didn’t want to leave him but Jason managed to corral him out of the bathroom so he could strip down and take a shower. He needed one. He was covered in grime and blood and now dog spit. 

His arm felt bad, not right. When he peeled off his shirt he found the bandage under his sleeve mangled, half torn off, bits of cotton stuck in the wound with oily antibacterial gel. It looked irritated, like the skin was abraded at some point, red and puffy and warm to the touch.

He washed it thoroughly in the shower, hissing at the burn of it and pressing just that much harder with the washcloth, drawing on the pain like an anchor.

Titus was waiting outside the door when he finally left the bathroom, towel around his waist. He tailed him into his bedroom and climbed onto the bed while Jason changed and then crawled in after him, yanking the covers out from under the dog and tucking himself in. Titus butted up next to him, back against his side. Jason could feel him breathing, the expansion of his rib cage as it pressed into him. He rolled over, slinging an arm over the dog.

The ball of tension under his lungs didn’t loosen. It held firm and Jason pressed his face into the gray fur, feeling raw and empty, like someone carved out his insides and stuck a tangled knot of wires in their place.

Jason remembered this book, from when he was just a kid, from before Bruce, before he was on the streets, when he was still going to school most days and almost always had enough to eat. His class had read _Maniac Magee._ It was one of his favorites.

Especially after he’d been on the streets.

Sometimes he’d imagined himself as that kid, on his own, too fast to catch.

But now he thought of that famous knot, tied to the top of the flagpole, bigger than a basketball, so impossible to untangle that there was a prize for managing, that had been around for longer than anyone remembered.

That’s what it felt like, the ball lodged under his ribs.

He told himself it wasn’t usually this bad. The Pit didn’t rear up and just hang on like that. It usually hit him in bursts, flared bright and hot and then went out in a flash. 

But that wasn’t right either. Because it didn’t used to happen much at all. He couldn’t remember feeling the Lazarus come over him like that. Not since he’d recovered. Maybe occasionally, when he’d decided to spare someone on a whim. But never like this, not days apart, not when he’d been killing, not as the Red Hood of before.

It was only after he’d stopped that it started to flare up like this, angry and _starving._

Jason took a shuddering breath, clutching at Titus’ fur maybe a little too tight, but he just grumbled amicably and shifted in the bed.

He knew what was wrong, but he’d kept telling himself it would wear off, go away. It was just the Pit making him antsy. 

Way back when it had been all he’d felt, all the time, until it had faded. But why was that? Had it faded because that’s what happened with time or was it because Jason had fed it?

He’d killed and maimed until it was sated and it let him have his sanity back, sitting back in some sort of silent approval while Jason continued in his righteous mission. And now, now he’d stopped killing and it was rearing back up, demanding to be fed. It terrified him. The thought that he could be going back in that direction. He’d been lost in a haze of rage and aggression and _betrayal_ and his mind was just - it was hardly there back then. 

He couldn’t go back to that. He couldn’t. He couldn’t lose control. He couldn’t lose everything he’d gained since he stopped. The joint patrols, the snarky comebacks, the tenuous reaching out from Barb and Bruce and even Dick if Jason would let him. Hell even Damian was growing on him and when he let himself really think about it Tim wasn’t so bad either. And the potential, the potential for more, for other relationships and deeper ones.

But he felt it getting worse the longer he went without blood on his hands.

It was _hungry._

And there was this awful, shitty thought tiptoeing around the edge of his mind.

He could go back on the agreement. He could make the decision himself, but then that was it, all of it would be gone, and he’d _still_ be letting the Pit control him, in the end. He might keep his sanity, maybe could hold onto the fact that he was killing by choice and not by impulse, but he’d know in the back of his mind that it was selfishly motivated. And then could he really trust himself to make the decision? If he knew that if he spared too many people he’d suddenly be losing himself again, could he really trust himself to make the call?

There were other things too. Jason had found, over the months since he’d stopped that he felt - lighter. Maybe he didn’t think what he did was wrong, but it was _heavy_ And he hadn’t realized the extent of it until that weight was lifting. It would only be worse now, if he went back to it.

But what else could he possibly do?

How was he supposed to fight magic? A billion year old curse?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: An oc character hyperventilates, though it is not described in detail. There is a hostage situation and a knife is held to someone’s neck. There is the production of drugs by minors. There is a decent bit of violence involving choking a man into unconsciousness. There is a severe flashback. I don’t know that it’s possible to skip all of these things...If you would like a detailed description of any of them before you read just let me know and I can message you through Tumblr. (Provided you have one, if not I’m sure I could figure something out)
> 
> _________
> 
> If you feel like you need some comfort after reading this angst filled chapter with its ominous ending, please go read this whumptober fic by Lurkinglurkerwholurks who is a genius: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20856140. I was rather inspired for the flashback scene so it has a similar feel I think to this chapter but with some more immediate reward for the pain, while we still await the comfort in this long ass fic. 
> 
> I know I tortured Jason here, and I’m not sorry. I will try to have the next chapter up as quickly as possible as I know this ending is rough but I wanted to mention that I’ve been typing SO MUCH in the last couple months that I’ve started to have trouble with my wrists, and I may need to slow down a bit. So I will try to upload things at a decent speed but there may be delays here and there when I’m having trouble with them and need to not write for a couple days.


	8. Hope’s hard of hearing, so I’m waiting for the teeth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason has an ill advised conversation with Dick and the spiral continues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the impromptu hiatus after promising I’d post as quickly as possible, lol. I just really wanted to finish the previous installment in the series before I continued with this one, and it is done!! So if You haven’t checked it out please do :)
> 
> Anyway I hope you enjoy this chapter! We should be back to a more frequent posting schedule after this.

The sixth day of dog sitting was a blur. Jason stuck around his apartment, took Titus for his walks in a haze of awareness that let him accomplish the bare minimum and gave him his ear drops. He slept most of the day. He felt a little sick and his arm hurt like shit and he was just lucid enough to decide to double up on the antibiotics.

Damian texted about Titus and Jason managed to answer. Bruce sent something too but he didn’t open it, stomach rolling at the thought.

Titus stuck close to him the whole day, enough that Jason was tripping over him just to get to the bathroom. He ate a single meal in the middle of the day and then slumped across his couch face down, felt Titus crawl up next to him, half on top of him, and settle his head over his back.

He wasn’t even aware when his normal patrol time rolled around. He woke up in the middle of the night on his couch, when he’d normally be midway through his rounds, with his heart pounding. He didn’t remember the dream.

But Titus was there, sleeping on the floor next to the couch, snoring softly. Jason breathed, and breathed, and rolled over and went back to sleep.

  
  


*

  
  


Day seven was better.

He woke up on the couch to sun filtering through the window, levered himself up, made a pot of coffee, ate three sugar cookies and felt vaguely human again. He fed Titus, gave him the second to last dosage of his drops.

He checked his text messages.

 _Damian:_  
_This is the final day of Titus’ ear drops, do not forget to administer them._

Jason rolled his eyes and tapped out a ‘sure’ in return. He didn’t let himself pause before opening Bruce’s from the night before.

 _Bruce:_  
_Gotham doesn’t have a bookstore like this though. Maybe we could open one._

Jason wasn’t sure how to take the last sentence. If the we was in reference to the vague amalgamation of Bruce’s entire family, if it was an autocorrect for WE, or if it was some strange new universe where he meant _me and you._

He didn’t reply. Clicked the screen off and went about cleaning his bathroom. With the amount of times he’d vomited in it recently, he felt the need to bleach it from top to bottom. The work helped him think, even though he didn’t really want to.

He started with the bathroom mirror, spraying Windex on and working away with paper towels, avoiding his own eyes as he went, feeling stupid. His mind strayed to that gift. To the disc still sitting in the player on his tv and the book still stashed in the bottom of his dresser. The phone call, the awkward fumbling request to watch their dog while Bruce and Damian were out of town.

He paused in his work, eyes flicking to a chip in the glass. And then he thought about the last time he’d let Bruce in. When everything had been a winding whirlpool of manipulation sucking him down to a “secret mission” in Ethiopia.

He threw the wad of paper towels in the trash with more force than necessary, dumping a liberal amount of comet in the sink and wetting a washcloth.

It was the cycle. Jason could feel it. Like a horse on a race track just going in circles, thinking eventually there’d be something new around the bend. That the race would end, that the prize would be something worth it and not just this continual, exhausting, bullshit. 

Jason would admit it wasn’t _always_ the same. Sometimes it was him that screwed everything up. He snorted as he scrubbed away at a lump of hardened hand soap. 

It was so damn tiring. He didn’t want to run anymore, even if sometimes it felt like that prize would be worth it if they could just _get there._

There was just this feeling that kept telling him he had to be missing something. Whenever Bruce reached out there was always a motive. It was never _just because._

Obviously he’d always wanted Jason to stop killing. That part was never in question, but why this. Why ask him to watch their dog while Bruce and Damian were out of the country? What was the point of that?

He turned on the tap, rinsing the washcloth and swiping it over the porcelain, clearing away the gritty residue of the Comet.

Maybe it wasn’t any big plan, maybe Jason was just a last resort, like it sounded from the beginning.

And the messages. Maybe they were just to try to stay in Jason’s good graces. Bruce getting a read on his mental state so he could be sure he wouldn’t react badly to Damian’s bullshit behavior and take it out on the dog. Because Bruce would think that, wouldn’t he? That Jason was that petty.

He was running the washcloth over the counter, clearing away dust and grime, thinking yeah, he would just be a last resort, except that something else occurred to him. It wasn’t a fully formed thought, slowly taking shape as he moved on to the tub.

There was no way Damian, the little brat, would allow Titus to be kenneled while they were gone. Bruce would never sacrifice Alfred’s knee for the sake of walking a fat dog. But then there was Tim. Which yeah ok, Damian hated Tim, no one seemed to know why but Jason had his theories. He could maybe write that one off.

And Cass was out of the country too, so she was off the roster.

But then there was Dick. Whom Damian loved. Who loved animals and would have said yes in a heartbeat...He lived in Bludhaven, yeah, but in the end they’d let Jason keep the dog at home so that hardly seemed like it would matter. 

He was kneeling next to the tub, working at soap scum build up and water marks. He tried to switch to his left arm but it was a mistake. He nearly face planted in the tub at the throbbing pain that shot up to his shoulder just from trying to grip the washcloth hard enough to scrub with. Resting his left elbow on the edge of the tub he switched back to the right, cursing under his breath. 

So then why? Jason wondered. Why ask him to do this if it wasn’t really how Bruce said it was? The question ground at him. Why make a comment about opening a friggin’ bookstore? What was it all? What was he doing?

Abruptly he faltered, knocking a shampoo bottle off the shelf above his tub and startling at the sound.

Dick. Dick would know the answer. 

He was the closest to Bruce in the end no matter what anyone thought. Even when they were fighting Dick kept tabs on him and vise versa.

Before he could talk himself out of it Jason was dropping the washcloth in the middle of the tub and digging his phone out of his pocket to open Dick’s contact information. He almost sent a text but dismissed the idea quickly. Jason was already nervous every time his phone buzzed in case it was Bruce, he didn’t need to add to it.

It rang three times and Jason worried he wouldn’t pick up until he did.

_“Jay! What’s up? How’s life?”_

Jason exhaled, rolling his shoulders out and taking a seat on the edge of the tub. His mouth felt suddenly dry and he briefly contemplated his own stupidity. Somehow Dick’s cheer was grating. Not that he should be surprised. 

“Why did Bruce ask me to watch Titus?”

The words came out a little more forceful than he wanted but he just had a bad feeling. Like the other shoe was about to drop and he was done waiting on it.

_“Uh, what?”_

“Why did they ask me to dog sit? Why not you?” There was a pause before he heard a slow breath on Dick’s end of the line.

 _“Why? Is everything going ok?”_ The hint of concern was worse than the cheer and Jason grit his teeth against it.

“Everything is fine, now answer the question.”

 _“Ok, I’m sorry,”_ Now there was a hint of irritation coming through. _“This is why you’re calling me? To ask why you were selected to dog sit over me? I don’t get a phone call or an answer to a phone call for like, four months, and this is what you want to talk about?”_

“Just answer the question.”

 _“Jason-“_ Dick cut off, and then there was the sound of a heavy sigh over the line. When he spoke again his voice was quiet and purposefully even.

_“What is this actually about?”_

Jason picked up the roll of paper towels off the counter and squeezed in frustration, that little hint of unwarranted aggression climbing up his spine.

“Don’t psychoanalyze me, just answer the question.” 

_“Ok, I’ll humor you. They_ probably _did not ask me to take Titus because I live over an hour away. That’s not for sure mind you, but it seems the most logical explanation.”_

“Yeah no, but that’s bullshit.” Jason adjusted his weight on the edge of the tub, gesturing with his bandaged left arm like Dick was sitting in front of him, ignoring the sarcastic lilt to his words. The more he talked the more the thought was solidifying in his head. The more that unwelcome tug at the back of his skull could be felt.

“That’s what Bruce said, but I told them I wasn’t gonna come to the manor everyday so they dropped Titus off at my place. He’s been staying with me the entire time so why couldn’t they have left him with you? There’s no reason.” It was like a series of lightbulbs coming on all at once.

Because of course there was, there had to be, just not the one Bruce had insisted on.

 _“I...are you that upset about it? Is Titus being difficult or something? I can come get him if it’s that inconvenient-”_ Dick sounded utterly confused and exasperated but Jason wasn’t stupid.

“No, that’s not- I’m saying, Bruce told me he couldn’t ask you because you lived too far away. But you don’t apparently. So he lied. He lied to me so what, why? Why ask me? What’s the real reason?” He was breathing hard by the time he stopped and he knew he must sound crazy, like he was fever mad or something.

There was another long pause on the other end of the line and Jason swallowed harshly, feeling jittery, his foot bouncing against the floor, the smell of cleaning fluid stinging in his nostrils.

 _“Jay...”_ His voice sounded soft, _gentle_ in a way that immediately put Jason’s hackles up. _“Where is this coming from?”_

“Don’t Dick.” He growled into the receiver, thinking this call was a mistake from the beginning. This was what he got for acting on impulse. It had always been a weakness, way back to his Robin days. “There’s always an ulterior motive with him, you know there is. So what is it? He trying to keep an eye on me?” 

Jason had to swallow against the sick swirling in his stomach. 

_“Ok.”_ Dick sounded hesitant, careful, _“I’ll tell you what I think but I’m not sure how you’re going to take it.”_

Jason ignored the way his stomach clenched. He was expecting this. It wasn’t a surprise and whatever the reason was it was better to know the truth than to keep lying to himself.

“Tell me,” he growled, when he could speak over the rushing in his ears.

_“...He wants to see you Jay. You never come around the Manor. You know how he is. He can’t just stop by, he needs an excuse. Plus you never really lent an invitation..He’s probably hoping you’ll take it for what it is; him trusting you with something important, and that - who knows - maybe you’ll get attached to Titus and come visit for the dog.”_

Jason couldn’t hold back his scoff. “Please, Bruce doesn’t want to see me, his normal go to is to act like I don’t exist.” 

The words came out unbidden, angry. It was something he hadn’t realized he’d been thinking up to this point but that he recognized now had been hanging around in the back of his mind this whole week. 

_“That is not true Jay, and you know it.”_

Jason gnashed his teeth, barely resisting the urge to stomp his feet like a petulant child. “Bullshit. the last time he acted like he wanted to see me he took me to fucking _Ethiopia.”_

 _“He - ok. I know there are things you guys need to work out-”_ Dick’s voice was strained this time, like he was fighting to keep it even.

“Work out?” Jason, absurdly, wondered how he got here.

His intention had just been to get information. That was all, but suddenly he was feeling furious, indignant, and close to snapping. It felt like every single person in his life had been lying to him for months.

“We have things we need to _work out?”_

_“Jay, please don’t-“_

“I bet this was your fucking idea.” Jason stood up, unable to sit still any longer. He felt like a bomb, a timer ticking against his skin. He could feel the Lazarus thrumming along in his veins like it was just waiting to be called on, ready to push if he didn’t. He should cut off the call, end the conversation here but he couldn’t.

“They did ask you first didn’t they? And then you thought, wait, no, here’s the golden opportunity. I can have my big happy family, you should ask _Jason._ He’ll get all soft and then he’ll want back in and everything won’t be so damn _awkward_ anymore.” 

He kicked a bottle of Lysol on the floor, sending it flying. It clattered against the vanity and sent a stray shot of spray into the air. Jason stomped out of the bathroom like there was somewhere to go, something to do that would stop the hornets buzzing against his ribs, the sensation of water filling up his lungs.

_“Whoa, Jay, what the heck? You are twisting everything around. Of course Bruce wants you around. He’s just awful at saying what he means or realizing when other people don’t see what he thinks is- ...is self-evident._

_“He’s getting better, he is, and_ that _\- is why he asked you to do this, instead of ignoring everything like he used to.”_

Jason stood in the in between space that divided his living room and kitchen from the bedroom and bathroom, one hand on his hip, thinking, not for the first time, that Boy Wonder was crazy. 

“Please, this is just like you. You always see all this grand emotion in the little details but I call bullshit. It’s make believe. You see what you want to see, and you want everybody to _get along_ and - and, _reconnect_ or some stupid shit.” Jason was breathless, vibrating under the skin, he had to stop himself from kicking his couch, wanting to do damage, wanting to throw his phone across the room but forcing himself not to _lose it._

 _“Ok,”_ Dick’s voice was a frustrated laugh, like he was barely keeping his cool and Jason could feel something in him that wanted to rattle that, to test that reserve. _“You may think that, but you know me Jason. I am not a manipulative person, I wouldn’t lie straight to your face about this, and no, I didn’t arrange it. They never asked me to watch Titus.”_

Jason was quiet, searching for a reason to rally back in even _half_ the fury that was prickling at his skin like pins and needles.

 _“I’m telling you Jason, Bruce wants to see you. He likes talking to you he-”_ Dick sighed again, this time quiet, _“I know this kind of stuff makes you nervous, but he loves you.”_

And Jason stopped. He stood there staring at the rumpled blanket pooling on his couch, thinking about the texts, and the movie, and the fucking picture of the sunrise and he snapped back, “He’s disappointed in me.” The words were rough, and Jason hated himself for the way they hurt, even through the pit trying to claw up his throat. 

_“He’s not, Jay.”_ Dick’s voice was insistent, pleading. _“We all know that - that you weren’t really yourself after the pit. Bruce knows that, he’s not disappointed or angry or whatever.”_

Jason should have left that alone. He shouldn’t have touched it but the anxiety that flared up in him was so wildly intense he wasn’t sure how he even stayed on his feet. His whole body was so tightly wound it was a miracle he didn’t start ricocheting off the walls and ceiling. He was barely hanging on to control.

“You think I wasn’t myself?” His voice was hard and tight, anxiety morphing into outrage at an alarming rate. He knew in the back of his mind it was the Pit, turning everything around in his head.

That Dick would suggest that he wasn’t in control of himself - that they apparently all - all knew this already. It set his teeth on edge. Had they all sat around talking about it? Was Jason some kind of hot topic of conversation?

Did they have any idea how true it might still be?

“What I did was necessary. The only reason I’m playing by Bruce’s rules now is so he doesn’t get in my _way.”_ He took two steps forward, gripping the top of the couch in as tight of a hold as he could manage. Because if he didn’t hold onto something for dear life he felt like he might just go shooting into space, that gravity would fail, like nothing was anchoring him to the earth. 

_“Jay.”_ And Dick sounded profoundly exasperated, like he didn’t believe a word that just came out of his mouth and Jason didn’t know whether to be pissed off or relieved. _“I don’t understand what’s going on here. I don’t know what you’re trying to accomplish with this conversation. I call bull on you wanting to go back to that. To- to killing. I know you’ve been patrolling less-”_

“Oh? Am I just the hottest gossip lately? First Babs goes blabbing about the dog fighting ring and now this? Is she in on this? Trying to reel me back in? Is Bruce using her to keep tabs on me?” Jason squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to feel wounded. She’d promised she wouldn’t _say anything._

_“Wait what? No - what are you even-? Jay, I don’t even know what you’re talking about. I’ve been in Gotham working with Bruce and Damian a lot, trying to - to ease the transition better than we did before. I notice when you’re not on comm’s Jay. Babs hasn’t said anything that I’m aware of, is there - I don’t even know what she would have said.”_

Jason pulled away from the couch, that bomb ticking away under his skin. He had no idea what would happen if it went off and the Pit took hold. He didn’t know what to do with his body, standing stiffly in the middle of his apartment.

“I just want you people to be fucking honest with me. I don’t need this soft, beating around the bush bullshit to try and make me _feel better.”_

Dick made a frustrated growl on the other end of the line, _“I am being honest, Bruce loves you Jason, just as much as the rest of us.”_

“Oh please,” Jason spat, “why should I believe that? You can say it as many times as you want Dick, that doesn’t make it true.” 

_“Ok, tell me, what would he need to do to prove to you that he loved you Jason?_

_“The things he does are apparently to manipulate you, the little details, as you call them, are not enough, and if he came outright and said it I know you’d never believe him. So what? What is this shining beacon you are looking for?”_

“Oh I don’t know,” Jason sniped back, feeling bitter and sick, “kill the Joker?”

He wasn’t being serious, and he knew it was a stupid shit thing to say but it was an easy dig, an obvious comeback that Dick should have seen coming a mile back and yeah it was in bad taste but Jason never had much in the way of tact. 

Dick’s response however, was not appreciated.

 _“Jay - Damnit, I thought you were over the Joker.”_ And that - that did it.

Jason swallowed. Felt every broken bone from that night aching in remembered pain. 

There was a sharp inhale on the other end of the line, _“Wait, that didn’t-”_ But Jason had already hung up.

He was shaking, standing there breathing like there wasn’t enough air in the room. He had to move or he would explode. 

He walked to the living room window and the only thing that stopped him from opening it and chucking his phone into the dumpster below was the fact that Damian would probably text later, asking after Titus.

His phone rang, Jason pressed ignore. It rang again, Jason silenced his phone.

Titus was laying in his huge dog bed, looking at him, ears down. Jason pushed himself, unstuck his feet from the floor and pulled the raging mass of his body into his bedroom and shut the door. He didn’t want to scare the dog, but Jason was _seething._

This was why he couldn’t be a part of their damn family. Why he could never get along with Dick, because nobody could ever just let you _be_. Dick had to fix everything, Jason wasn’t allowed to be upset about something because it bothered Dick, it bothered Bruce, so he needed to just _get over it._ Didn’t matter if it was being beaten to death and blown up by a deranged clown, you just need to fucking _move on Jason._

He could feel the pit in every part of him, pumping through his veins, filling his lungs, his stomach, in the sweat coming up through his skin. 

_Just look, look at the minuscule details, the clues, the hints, the unequivocal proof of Bruce’s love. You don’t need to question it anymore! Just tell yourself it’s true and you can be happy!_

He wanted to tear the shelves off his walls, throw the stupid fucking baseball from Alfred’s damn box through his window. But that shivering pulse in the back of his head meant it was a horrible idea. It wouldn’t stop there, if he let it take an inch. 

Instead he sat on the edge of his bed, put his head in his hands and barely resisted the urge to scream.

He wasn’t even asking Bruce to kill the Joker anymore. He wouldn’t. It’s not - he knew that wasn’t - it wouldn’t be fair, to expect that of someone, no matter what. He knew that. He got that now, but he couldn’t - he couldn’t just let go of what happened.

How could Dick just -

He knew they all must think it. that Jason was just some moping child who couldn’t get over his past.

  
  


*

  
  


The next time Jason checked his phone he had 17 texts from Dick.

 _Dick:_  
_Jason, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that the way it sounded._

____

_Please talk to me._

____

_I never should have said it, it’s totally not ok, please answer my calls._

____

_Seriously Jay, I just want to make sure you’re alright._

____

Jason didn’t read the rest of them. There were also five missed calls and one voicemail. He deleted the message.

He almost turned off his phone all together but again thought of Damian, panicking over Titus.

He cleaned his entire apartment, top to bottom, left every surface sparkling and smelling of Pine Sol. He had to favor his left arm through the whole process and ignored the voice in the back of his mind telling him to get it checked out. Took Titus on his evening walk, did a round at the dog park, and tried to push his conversation with Dick out of his head. Reminded himself that this was what happened when you let your guard down.

This was what happened when you tried to unravel the knot. You couldn’t just go pulling on loose threads and expect things to turn out ok.

The shoe had dropped.

Bruce had probably asked him to watch Titus because he wanted a way to keep tabs on him without Jason being suspicious. With Batman out of town there needed to be eyes on him. Oracle was probably one of them.

Maybe Bruce didn’t hate him. Maybe he even liked talking to him about stupid books and movies and shit but he still didn’t trust him. He still looked at Jason and saw all the things he did wrong, his mistakes. He couldn’t even muster the energy to be upset over it because he was _right._ He should watch Jason like a hawk. He _couldn’t_ be trusted. Not with the Lazarus flowing through his blood.

Maybe Bruce had loved him when he was a kid, before he died. Jason could look at how messed up he was after the Pit and recognize that Tahlia had manipulated him, even if the bitterness didn’t 100% fade.

But then he came back, like _this,_ and he wasn’t that kid anymore. Not the one that Bruce had lost, not the one he wanted back. 

It was fine. He wasn’t even angry about it. Dick was right, Jason knew he wasn’t some mastermind, trying to maneuver events. He probably was convinced.

Convinced that Bruce loved Jason, but Dick had always seen love and good feelings where there was very little. He saw the world through rose colored glasses and Jason couldn’t do that. He couldn’t convince himself that Bruce still loved him just because he wanted it to be true - and that. Shit.

He didn’t - that wasn’t - he was over that. Over wanting that.

_Shit._

  
  


*

  
  


By the time night rolled around Jason was antsy. He had two more unread texts from earlier in the day but they weren’t from Dick.

 _Damian:_  
_You have been unusually quiet. You gave Titus his last dose of ear drops?_

Followed by one from Bruce. It was a picture of Damian, standing in front of Buckingham Palace, a bag in his hand from some souvenir shop, staring stoically into the camera.

 _Bruce:_  
_He was actually smiling, before I snapped the photo._

Jason swallowed against the lump in his throat. It was stupid. It was just conversation. But Bruce trying to be funny with him called up old memories he didn’t want to think about. 

He backed out of the text from Bruce to answer Damian.

 _Jason:_  
_Isn’t it the middle of the night there? Titus is good. Drops are done._

He sent a photo he had snapped at the park earlier that evening.

 _Damian:_  
_Bats are nocturnal. Is that Hamilton Park?_

Jason rolled his eyes, sitting at his counter eating leftover pasta.

 _Jason:_  
_I feel like I remember reading that robins are not._

_Yeah, it’s close by, why?_

He also had his laptop open, and was in the process of ordering that new router.

 _Damian:_  
_I have wanted to take Titus there. It is supposed to be one of the better parks in the city. Less garbage, literal and human._

Jason snorted. “If only you knew, kid.” He rubbed gently over his left arm. He’d been sitting in a t-shirt, wound unbandaged and exposed, trying to let it air out. Everything he knew about wound care was never let something stay damp, you want it clean and dry and leaving bandages off was usually better if the wound wasn’t bleeding and wasn’t at risk for more damage. Of course that had taken longer than usual since he hadn’t administered stitches. He was gonna have some gnarly scars from this one. The bruises around the wound alone were shockingly dark.

 _Jason:_  
_It’s not bad. Not a lot of experience with parks though. Titus seems to like it._

 _Damian:_  
_Perhaps when we return I will take Titus and you can join us there._

Jason blinked down at his phone, mouth full of tomato sauce.

The kid had been different since Jason was watching his dog. Not so ready to attack. But he hadn’t made any hints of wanting to spend time with Jason so far. It was weird. Just one more thing to add to a list of weird things. 

On any normal night, before all this shit started, he would be getting ready for patrol. The thought now sent anxiety rolling through him like storm clouds.

Jason spent his entire life resisting the control of others. From the time when he was small and Willis would knock him around, to living on the streets and resisting gangs, to being Robin and making the hard calls himself even when Batman would get mad and bluster at him.

The very idea that he wasn’t in control of himself now rankled on every possible level.

He wanted to be out there. He wanted to help people. And he wanted to think that whatever these... _episodes_ had been that they were temporary. 

He wanted to think it. He did. 

It also didn’t escape his memory that he had failed to restock his bank account. 

Jason had died and come back to life _without_ the pit. He should be able to handle whatever this was. If he just kept to the shadows, _waited_ instead of jumping the gun he could be ok. It wasn’t so impossible to keep a cool head on patrol if he just planned ahead. He could handle it. He could.

He told himself that as he put his gear on, stamping down on the anxiety with a now practiced hand. And he told himself that all the way until he’d climbed his first rooftop, when he knew immediately and without question that he couldn’t do it.

The phantom feeling of his hands wrapped around the drug dealers throat was still fresh and he couldn’t risk it. He couldn’t forget the look of the man’s bloodshot eyes. Couldn’t ignore the way the hunger in him rose up, just a little, when he even thought about it. Couldn’t forget the scorn in Leslie’s voice.

He could go to her clinic now, check in, find out if the guy had woken up. If he did have brain damage, what the prognosis was.

Instead, he went back to Port Adams, checked that the drug lab was empty, making sure the kids weren’t there again, and he put in an anonymous call with the GCPD. It was raining, mixed with sleet, and damn cold, probably going to snow soon. Jason had been feeling it for days.

Then he found the best rooftops in Gotham, and he ran.

It was a bad idea with the arm. Really, patrolling was a bad idea to start with but he’d bound it up tight and slathered a bunch more antibacterial ointment on it, took another double dose of pills.

He knew he should just go back to his apartment. Titus had been subdued all day and it was obviously because of him and his weird ass mood and he could play with him a little, cheer him up. But Jason felt like a hurricane, like a raging storm in the shape of a person.

So he ran. Across rooftops, trying to stop from feeling like he was trapped in his own skin. Trying to be tired enough that he’d actually sleep.

Jason should really have known better, even if he had no intention of patrolling. This was Gotham, you cover enough ground in one night and you _will_ come across a crime. He was just about to hit the edge of a building and leap to the next when he heard a scuffle below and skid to a halt in the pea gravel covering the roof. Edging up to the small ledge he peered down over it, caught sight of the alley below. 

There were three men. One of them was backed up against a wall, hands up, while the second held a knife at his throat and the third rifled through the first’s pockets.

It was too dark and the angle was too poor to see their faces, but Jason could hear them just fine.

“I- I really don’t have anything. You got my cell phone, that’s it, that’s all I have.”

“Shut up,” said the one with the knife.

“There’s nothing Peter, pockets are empty, no wallet.”

“What the fuck are you doing walking around without a wallet?”

“I was- I was just taking out the trash man.”

Jason should have stepped in. It would have been simple. Two guys, one knife, they obviously had no real training. It would be easy. He might even be able to just scare them off. Sometimes just the sight of Red Hood was enough with the pettier criminals.

But his hands clenched at his sides and his breathing picked up, feet shifting in the gravel. What if he lost it? What if the Pit took over, what would he do? An image of that Rottweiler from the park flared up in his mind, the dead eyes. His arm was throbbing. 

Jason was a lot worse than that, his mind supplied. He wasn’t empty on the inside he was filled up. Brimming over with malintent, always hungry for violence. He could feel the Pit even then, lurking below his skin. 

So he stood there, and he watched. Watched a dark haired man in a hoodie get punched in the gut for not having enough money on him. The two assholes who robbed him wandered off, laughing to each other. He stayed there, waiting to see the guy move. He had slumped against the wall when he got hit.

 _“Shit.”_ Jason heard him swear under his breath, pressing both hands to his face before he pushed himself up and away from the wall. He wiped a hand under his nose and sniffed hard and Jason didn’t have to be a genius to register that the guy was crying. Probably terrified, possibly flat broke, unable to replace the stolen cell phone. The man walked slowly out of the alley, looking both directions, checking the two men who mugged him were gone. Then he slipped silently back inside the building Jason was standing on.

Just taking out his trash.

And there Jason was, just standing there, just watching.

Useless.

He stepped back from the edge of the roof, feeling his lungs fill up with fire until he was pushing off, leaping the gap between buildings and going, and going, and going. 

Who even was he? Jason wondered, who even was he if he didn’t have this anymore? If he couldn’t fight crime he had nothing. He _was_ nothing. He didn’t even have a civilian identity. He was legally dead. Jason was literally no one if he wasn’t Red Hood. 

There had to be a way to get himself together again. He couldn’t let go of vigilanteism, he didn’t want to. He wanted to help people, create justice in a world where there was none. But how could he? How could he when he was like _this?_

Jason ran furiously. Ran so hard and leapt so far that he tripped on the edge of a roof he nearly didn’t make. The jump was bigger than he should have risked. His toe clipped the edge and he went down hard on his knees, with enough momentum to keep going. He rolled sideways, slamming his hip into cement and scraping his bitten arm trying to stop. He landed on his back and laid there.

It was still raining, and Jason was soaked through to his skin, but he felt hot. Yanking off the helmet he stared up into the sky, wondering what stars he could see if there wasn’t such heavy cloud cover, if it wasn’t raining. His breath came in huge plumes of white and his lungs burned.

He remembered a night with Bruce once, when he was Robin and the night was clear and they had laid out like this on a skyscraper’s roof, looking at constellations in full costume. Jason had thought it was so cool.

He didn’t feel so bitter about it anymore, knew the feeling from Bruce was probably genuine. That the new Robin had never replaced him, that all the shit about Bruce loving him back then was true. It didn’t stop everything that happened since then from hurting.

Now he just ached for something he knew he’d never get back.

  
  


*

  
  


That night he didn’t dream, but it still took him the longest time to fall asleep. Even with Titus there, snoring softly next to him, he couldn’t seem to quiet his brain, just woke up over and over again through the night. When he finally got up the next day he was so tired it was like the sleep did him no good. His arm was throbbing and it was hot to the touch. He took a triple dose of the antibiotics this time, cleaned the wound thoroughly even though he cussed through the entire thing because it felt like a hot iron being shoved into his skin.

He made the mistake of leaving the bathroom door open. Titus ended up laying on the floor, head on his feet, looking up at him with those sad little puppy eyes while he did it. 

Jason knew he should get help for the arm. Go to the manor at least, but he couldn’t talk to Alfred right now. Didn’t want the old man to somehow convince him that things weren’t how they seemed, didn’t want him to see just what Jason was thinking and feeling. Because he would, and Jason didn’t need that. He was tired of the rise and fall, the steadily growing expectation and the inevitable let down. He was done with it.

Leslie was no longer an option either, Jason thought with a bitter laugh. Not after he dropped a half dead scumbag off on her doorstep.

The hospital was always an option but the amount of people...no, Jason would manage on his own, like he always had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok...I’M SORRY. I made it sound like this chapter was going to be less depressing than the last one but....it’s not lmao. I hope you still liked it though!! 
> 
> I hope no one is too upset with Dick or Jason for things that were said while upset...misunderstandings abound!
> 
> Chapter title from Radical Face: Hard of Hearing


	9. I’m nightmares underneath, it’s useless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason should know better than to think Dick would ever let something go. He should have expected this, really.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings in the end notes.

Jason was in the middle of Titus’ first walk when he got another text alert. He figured it was from Damian, thinking Dick had given up, but really, he should know better. 

_Dick:_  
_I didn’t mean that I thought you were over what happened, nobody expects you to just, get over being murdered, or anything else. I just meant, I thought you were over expecting that of Bruce, or anyone. And now that I really listen to what you said, in my head, I think you were probably being sarcastic and I’m a total asshole and I’m sorry._

He still didn’t respond but the low simmering resentment in his gut settled just a little. Jason believed him, mostly, but it didn’t erase all the other shit and he didn’t have the energy to deal with it right now. 

The weather was miserable, even worse than the night before. It started snowing while they were out, just like Jason had been waiting for. He felt pretty much like shit, exhausted and achey, and so he cut the walk short, leading a perfectly agreeable Titus back up the stairs to his apartment where it was at least warmer than outside.

Luckily there wasn’t much he needed to do, because all he really wanted was to sleep. He didn’t let himself though, he was an adult and he could stay awake during normal daylight hours, thank you very much.

Bruce messaged him around noon, when he was making tuna salad ‘cause he didn’t have the energy for anything else. Titus was following him like a shadow and Jason thought the walk probably wasn’t enough exercise and he was feeling restless. He nearly tripped over him when he turned to retrieve his phone from the kitchen counter where he’d left it charging. Jason resigned himself to going to the dog park later, in spite of the nasty weather and how miserable he felt.

When he saw the message from Bruce he paused, not sure if he should even open it with everything else crowding around in his head.

But he wanted to see what it said.

 _Bruce:_  
_I got you something at that shop I think you’ll like. It’s not all that rare, but it reminded me of you._

And Jason clicked back, regretting it completely. That stupid note was still stashed in his dresser, the two clear sentences in the whole thing that had started this whole mess in the first place returned to him in an unwelcome flash.

_I thought of you._

_I miss you._

He put his phone back down, ignoring the way his hands felt heavy and clumsy and how it was hard to get a full breath for a moment. 

Jason wondered, idly, what Roy would think of this whole thing. He’d gotten video calls over the last few months but the last that Jason knew was he and Kori were in deep space somewhere. Out of range and impossible to contact. Being outlaws without him.

It wasn’t as if Jason couldn’t have gone with them, but he found the longer he was away on missions with the Outlaws the more he missed Gotham and the more it felt like he’d left things unfinished here. Maybe it was imaginary, maybe it was all in his head but Roy had gotten it. 

_”Hey, it’s not like I don’t have an idiot of an old man myself.”_

_”That’s not what this is about Roy,” Jason grumbled while reassembling one of his guns._

_”Yeah ok,” he said like he didn’t believe it for a minute. “It’s home though, isn’t it?” He shrugged, “sometimes you need to be home for a while.”_

Kori had gotten it too, though she’d been sad to leave him behind. But Roy and Jason had a special understanding about sometimes-shitty father figures and Jason wished he could talk to him. Talk to someone who didn’t have a stake in all this. 

Maybe even about the other stuff...he wouldn’t get it probably, but he wouldn’t look at Jason like he was a monster either. 

He shook the thought from his head in a quick jerk, rubbing a hand over his face. They’d talk when he and Kori were back in range. There was no use dwelling on it now. 

Titus didn’t leave him alone for more than a minute. Even with what little moving around the apartment Jason did between reading bouts of _Howl’s Moving Castle,_ it drove him nuts. Every time he used the bathroom or walked into his bedroom, got up from the couch even, Titus was there, blocking his path, like he was just waiting for something to do. So Jason figured it was better earlier than later. It was while he was getting Titus put together to walk to Hamilton Park that he got another message.

He paused briefly this time before opening it but Damian hadn’t messaged since the day before so he checked.

 _Damian:_  
_You shouldn’t take anything Grayson says to heart. He is an imbecile who speaks without thinking._

Jason stared at it for a long time, holding Titus’ leash in his hand while the dog looked up at him expectantly, head sleeve and all. He had no idea how to take it, the kid was just...a kid. But Jason was getting full on fed up of everyone talking about him behind his back. He finally settled on irritated and typed out a reply before he shoved the phone in the deepest pocket of his warmest coat and took Titus out. 

_Jason:_  
_Mind your own business demonbrat_

What was with everyone in this entire Batman-and-Associates Club? Did they all just sit around and talk about him twenty four hours a day? He kicked a damp, half empty pack of cigarettes across the sidewalk as they passed it, feeling mulish and spiteful. He was so tired of this. Of all of them.

Acting like they wanted to _help_ him, manipulating him into doing what they thought he should. And all because they thought he was someone he wasn’t. They thought he was _better._

Jason let out a bitter laugh as he tugged his hood over his head before leading Titus through a crosswalk. It was so cold outside the tip of his nose was going numb and he wished he had thought to wear a scarf. There was maybe an inch of snow on the ground, half gray from whatever pollutants covered the sidewalk. It was packed down into brown slush, a tissue paper thin layer of ice coating the concrete that made it dangerous to even be out.

He kept thinking about the night before, watching some helpless civilian get robbed and just standing there, unable to move. Because it was either do nothing or risk taking someone’s head off over a cellphone. He could blame everyone else all he wanted but Jason knew full well things would fall apart whether they were genuine or not.

There were hardly any people around, gearing up for what would probably be much worse weather before the night was over. It was around four in the afternoon and the sun was low in the sky, hitting the street with long shadows and a hazy glow even under the thick cloud cover. Jason blew on his fingertips as they reached the park. It was even more empty than the streets which wasn’t surprising. Only the truly idiotic took their dog to the park in weather like this. He unhooked Titus’ leash and pulled a lone tennis ball out of his pocket, ready to run this dog’s energy down as quickly as possible and get back to his apartment.

He threw it only once, watching Titus go after it in his goofy red sweater and jacket, neck and ears bundled in that ridiculous head sleeve. Titus had just reached the ball when there was a shout somewhere behind him.

He looked over and there were two figures in the distance, a guy and girl, they were both bundled in coats, scarves, and thick boots. The girl had a purple beanie on and matching mittens that she was waving at him from across the park. 

“Jason!” She shouted his name and Jason couldn’t stop from rolling his eyes.

“Perfect.” He mumbled to himself, turning away from them and walking to meet Titus. 

He heard Stephanie jog up behind him but didn’t turn around.

“Hey! You’re here.”

“Yeah, and apparently so are you.” He reached out to take the ball from Titus but the dog ran straight passed him. Jason turned to watch him go right to Stephanie, tail wagging like crazy while she crouched down.

“Hey big guy, how are you? What an amazing outfit, you fashion icon.” She was laughing as she pulled the ball out of his mouth, making a face at the slobber. Titus barked, loud and excited, hopping his front half back and forth. Stephanie was grinning full on now and Jason felt guilt weigh on his shoulders. Titus had been subdued most of the day, other than following him around everywhere he didn’t seem too excited for anything, including his food. All while Jason had been moping around the apartment. 

She stood up and chucked the ball across the park and Titus took off after it. Then she turned back and shouted to the lone figure still trudging up to meet them, “hurry your ass up Timothy!”

“Alright, alright I’m coming.” He half jogged the rest of the way, coming to stand next to her with similarly red cheeks. The kid’s hair was a mess, sticking up in all directions under a ridiculous pair of bright red ear muffs, matching scarf pulled up over his mouth and giant puff coat making him look like a black marshmallow. One hand was shoved in his pocket, the other clutching a steaming cup of coffee with bright red knuckles. When he looked at Jason his eyes were pinched at the sides. He offered a nod that Jason ignored in favor of glancing back at Titus, who dropped the ball directly between him and Stephanie.

Jason stepped forward at the same time she did, almost knocking shoulders. There was an awkward shuffle until she backed up. “Sorry, you throw.”

Jason grunted back, picking up the ball and tossing it halfheartedly. He steadfastly faced away from the both of them, feeling more and more peeved the longer they were there. 

“So, pretty nasty day huh?” Stephanie ventured, pulling herself into his peripheral vision.

“Sure.” Jason clenched his hands in his pockets, staring straight ahead.

He still saw her glance back at Tim, making big eyes and motioning toward Jason with her head. She whispered something he couldn’t hear, Tim whispered something back. Their voices got faster, more insistent. He saw Stephanie’s eyebrows scrunch down, she jerked her head toward him again and it was enough to have Jason growling into the collar of his coat where it was pulled up to his chin.

“Alright _what?”_ he snapped, not turning around. “I am standing right here you stewed prunes.”

There was a pause as Titus came bounding back up.

“Stewed- what?” Tim sounded lost but Stephanie rushed forward, catching Titus before he could choose Jason for the next throw. 

“That’s Shakespeare isn’t it? Henry the fifth or something?”

“Fourth,” Jason corrected begrudgingly shaking out his shoulders with a harsh shiver. His arm throbbed and he clenched his jaw.

“Right, right, my creative writing class just did a whole section on Shakespeare and made up words and shit, pretty interesting.” She glanced back at them as Tim shuffled up to stand on Jason’s other side, taking a drink from his coffee.

“Fascinating,” Jason clipped back. Stephanie looked briefly constipated and moved to intercept Titus again.

“I feel like this is a conversation for the two bird boys. I’m gonna go play with Titus over there.” She nodded her head towards one of the benches and took off just as Tim was starting to protest. Then he let out a heavy sigh and took another long drink.

“So...” Tim ventured, toeing the ground with a boot that looked too big for him.

“Fucking _what?”_ Tim looked startled by the venom in his tone, glancing at him with wide eyes that made Jason just want to punch him. “You’re the one who showed up here out of the blue, obviously looking for me, so stop beating around the damn bush. What do you want?”

“Uh, ok.”

Jason turned away from him, his toes were going numb and he needed to move. He started a walk around the perimeter of the park, forcing Tim to rush to catch up. He was still quiet though, acting nervous, fidgety, and Jason was so tired of this.

“Dick sent you.”

Tim glanced up at him, eyes darting over his face. “Sort of.”

“Just spit it out Replacement.” Tim looked momentarily stung, pulling Jason’s shoulders further up to his chin. He’d stopped calling him that mostly, since they’d all been working more together on patrol. Jason looked down, hating the way his anger couldn’t quite swallow the guilt.

“Ok yeah, I’m checking in with you because of Dick.”

Jason snorted. “Figures.” He wanted to say more, there was a whole slew of other things ready to come pouring out of his mouth but for once he managed to hold his damn tongue. Dick probably thought he went flying off the handle after their conversation, probably sent the little bird looking for him on patrol first, to make sure he wasn’t cutting off heads or breaking into freaking Arkham. He didn’t say any of it, because it all felt too close to what could have happened.

Of all of them Tim was the smart one and if Jason got overly defensive he’d be the first one to see through it for what it was.

“It was pretty interesting trying to figure out where you’d be,” Tim finally ventured, tone casual, like he was inviting conversation. Jason scowled, walking faster, making Tim take an extra step to every three of his. 

“It was quite the run around,” he continued when Jason said nothing back. “Dick sent a group message to everybody, asking if they knew where he might find you, because you were ignoring him.” And there it was again.

“You know I am fucking tired of everybody in this Goddamn-” He didn’t want to call it a family, he didn’t, but he didn’t know what other word to use, “ _group_ thinking everything I do is everybody else’s business. Dick shoulda’ kept his mouth shut.”

Tim swallowed but was quick to continue, “ok, but, he didn’t actually tell anyone what happened.” Jason cut away from the sidewalk, following a thin spot in the grass where you could see the dirt even through the snow. “Ok so, he told _me,_ but nobody else and that’s only because - Jason will you slow down and just listen to me for a second?”

He felt a tug on the back of his jacket and barely resisted the urge to yank away, feeling the Pit rise to meet his still souring mood. He glanced out to where Stephanie was still throwing the ball for Titus and took a steadying breath. He stopped short, turning around and facing Tim who nearly bulldozed right into him, letting go of the back of his coat just in time to dribble coffee down the front of it.

“Shit, sorry-” He reached out like he was gonna try to brush away the beading drops but hesitated.

“Fine. Talk.” Jason ignored the drops even as they slowly started to soak into the wool of his coat. Tim looked up at him and Jason was struck by how short the kid was, even still. He looked nervous but he squared his shoulders, taking in a deep breath. 

“Ok. So. Dick texted everyone, excluding Bruce by the way, asking where he could find you, because you were ignoring him, he said he upset you and he wanted to talk. He didn’t say anything else.” The kid was talking so fast he must have fully expected Jason to cut him off at any moment.

“Babs said he should just show up at your apartment, because it apparently worked for her, but at that point I thought _that’s a terrible idea,_ and you never told any of us where you live, besides, you know, recently with Bruce and Damian, and they never passed that on, cause I’m sure they knew you wouldn’t want them to. So I messaged Dick privately to ask him what happened because I wasn’t sure you’d appreciate the unexpected visit if you were mad at him for something.” He drew in another deep breath, eyebrows slanting down in concentration, and switched the coffee cup into his other hand. 

“It was Damian that actually helped find you, said you’d been taking Titus here since they left. In the meantime I convinced Dick not to show up at your doorstep-”

“Why?” Tim stumbled over his words, blinking up at him in confusion. “Why’d you convince him not to show up?” 

Tim shrugged, mouth tugging down on one side in a knowing sort of way. “Because Dick can be a jerk sometimes, when he’s not thinking, and he doesn’t really get that not everybody is like him. Some people need _space._ Something he has little concept of.”

Jason snorted.

“Surprised to hear you say something negative about the golden boy.” The kid rolled his eyes, giving a soft laugh.

“I love Dick, but he’s not perfect. He has flaws just like the rest of us.” There was a wry bitterness to the words that Jason almost wanted to pick at, sensing a story, but he didn’t because he didn’t want to invite the same in return. He appreciated the kid’s efforts anyway, to a larger degree than he anticipated. He dropped the smile then and looked at Jason with a serious expression, that same pinch to his eyes from before.

“He didn’t tell anyone else what happened, all Dick said was that he said something stupid and he needed to apologize but you were ignoring him. I got the details but nobody else.”

The tension in Jason’s shoulders was slowly bleeding away, knowing that at least Dick hadn’t given that up to everyone, aired Jason’s dirty laundry to the world. That he hadn’t said a word to Bruce. But just bringing it up made him on edge, uncomfortable. Tim’s next words didn’t help.

“He never should have said that Jason,” the words were earnest, and almost _gentle_ in tone and Tim’s eyebrows were drawn up in the middle, concern or sympathy Jason couldn’t parse but he didn’t like it. Hated how immediately embarrassed he felt, the need to downplay the whole thing surging through him because even though he felt wounded, he also just felt stupid.

Jason shrugged, looking away across the park again. “I was asking for it,” he mumbled back, “said some stupid shit of my own. And he already apologized, you didn’t-” Jason looked down, at the toes of his dirty boots, damp enough now that the water was leeching inside, soaking into his socks and freezing his already numb toes. He swallowed. “You didn’t need to come out here, I’m fine.”

He should have replied to Dick’s stupid message, said something at least, instead of ignoring him. _Punishing_ him like the dysfunctional asshole he was.

Tim was staring at him, eyes scrutinizing in a careful way Jason didn’t like but he didn’t say anything, just looked down too and kicked a pebble across the snowy grass. They both turned toward Stephanie and Titus,who weren’t so far away anymore, watched her mock wrestling with him while his tail went crazy, barking loud enough to echo while she laughed in return. 

“I’m not gonna say I get it,” Tim finally said, quietly, “because I don’t. But please don’t write Bruce off.” 

Jason didn’t speak, because he couldn’t, because his tongue felt frozen in his mouth, numb just like his fingers and toes. “He’s trying he...it’s been different lately. He’s better now - than he was. It’s not perfect sure, but you can _tell_ he’s trying.” He looked up and to the side again, staring at Jason who turned his head just enough that the hood blocked his eyes.

“I think that counts for something.”

Jason clenched his jaw again at the thought of Bruce’s stupid text messages, and the pictures, the _gifts._ Plural, even. But God it just _hurt._ He didn’t trust it. He remembered so many times edging back into Bruce’s life only to be hurt again.

Only to hurt _Bruce_ again.

And that scared him. More than he had been willing to admit since he finally let himself see how tangled up he still was with the Pit. Maybe Bruce was being honest, maybe he’d _changed._

But so had Jason, and not in a good way.

He took a deep breath, hating the way it shuddered on the way in, and let it out in a gust of white condensation. 

“You’re lucky I even came here today,” Jason finally said, trying for casual, to erase the heavy atmosphere. “Barely stopped in yesterday.”

Tim moved his cup up to his mouth and then stopped. “Wait, you came yesterday?”

Jason glanced at him, confused for a moment. “Yeah, only for a little while, maybe twenty minutes. Why?”

“Because w-...when were you here?” Tim’s voice was almost upset and Jason was baffled.

“I don’t know, four-ish? Why?” 

Tim let out a soft sigh and finally took another drink. “Figures.” 

“What figures, you little asshole?” 

Tim glanced at him, mouth corking up at the side at the insult, he stared at the top of his coffee cup for a moment before he answered. “We came by yesterday too, around five, waited around for like, three hours before we had to call it. About froze my toes off.”

Jason faltered, doing a double take. “You - wait, what?” 

Tim shrugged. “I mean, it’s not like we were out here the entire time, there’s a coffee shop pretty close by, we’d go warm up every forty minutes or so.”

“You-” Jason was floored, “you didn’t just check the security cameras by my building? Set up an alert? Facial recognition?” Tim paused, tapping the side of his cup before closing his eyes for a moment, looking pained.

“Yeah that would’ve been smarter.”

Jason laughed. Sharp and loud, and it surprised even him. “I can’t believe you. You’re supposed to be the little genius.” But it was teasing, and Jason couldn’t ignore the little prick of warmth in his chest even though he wanted to.

“Yeah well, it’s called respecting privacy.”

“Sure, sure it is.” Tim started laughing too though, dragging a hand through his hair, forgetting the ear muffs and knocking them off center.

“Don’t tell Stephanie, she’ll murder me.”

“I think _Batgirl_ probably should have thought of it too.”

Tim was smiling in earnest now, shaking his head. “Still, don’t say anything.” 

Their sudden camaraderie must have been visibly apparent because Stephanie wandered over with Titus not a moment later.

“Alright, are you two idiots done? All good in the hood? Because I’m sooo ready for another coffee and Babs told me about this place not far from here. It’s like, some kind of pet cafe. We should take Titus!”

Jason swallowed, feeling abruptly uneasy. Tim glanced at him, eyes looking him up and down. It wasn’t that the invitation wasn’t appreciated, especially after finding out Blondie and Timbo waited outside in the disgusting rain and sleet for three hours the day before just on the off chance they might catch him - but it was just _a lot._ And he didn’t want to think about his conversation with Babs, at that very cafe because he’d been going back and forth in his head about the _break_ thing.

Only he wasn’t sure he could trust her to keep her word that she wouldn’t tell anyone anymore and he didn’t want to expend the mental energy trying to figure it out. He was so tired, and his arm hurt, but he didn’t want to say no, especially to Stephanie’s hopeful smile.

“I don’t know,” Tim said, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I kind of need to swing back by the office before five if I can.” Steph’s expression morphed instantly to a glare.

“Tim. No.”

“Steph-”

“No! It’s Friday! They will survive without you through the weekend. You’ve been working like sixty hours a week, you need to cool it.”

“I’m fine.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Well I drove us here and I’m not taking you.”

Tim gave Jason an exasperated look. “Well, I think Jason might be a little tired.” They both looked at him then, Tim apologetically and Stephanie newly alert, scanning him up and down with sharp eyes.

“Shit yeah, you look like death.”

_“Steph.”_

“What, he does.” Her eyes flicked to Tim and back again. “You do. You feeling ok?”

“Fine,” he said tightly, relieved and annoyed all in one. He unwound Titus’ leash that had been in his pocket. “But I should get back to my place. Titus just got over an ear infection, he shouldn’t be out for too long.” He steadfastly avoided both of their eyes as he knelt down to attach the leash.

“Aw, poor pup.” Stephanie knelt next to him, patting Titus on the neck, over the sleeve. She also jostled into his shoulder, very much on purpose. “I don’t know what all of this was about, but I hope you’re ok, and if you’re not, I will kick Dick’s ass myself. Just say the word,” she said it under her breath and Jason had no time to formulate a response, verbal or otherwise, before she pulled her phone up, camera open.

“Now. We have to get a selfie with Titus in that ridiculous outfit before anybody leaves.”

Tim snorted.

“Huh-uh, no complaints, I’m freezing my boobs off and I want this picture.” Jason snorted that time as Tim dropped his face in his unoccupied hand.

“We’ve talked about this Stephanie.”

“Yes, we have,” she said primly, pulling herself close to Titus and holding her right arm straight in front of her. “Now budge up Timothy, you’re getting in this picture.”

She reached back around Titus’ neck, grabbed Jason by the collar as she went down and yanked him closer in. “Shit Blondie.”

“We are not going to fit in this picture if everybody doesn’t learn to get a little cozy.” He saw the three of them in the camera app, Stephanie and Jason were squeezed in on either side of Titus‘ head while Tim bent over behind them, coffee cup in hand, mildly amused smirk in place. The sun was setting around them, casting their faces in deep shadow and giving the whole thing an orange glow. “Alright we’re gonna do one with flash and one without, now say cheese!” 

Just before she tapped the photo button Jason felt something freezing cold insert into his ear with surprising force and jerked back. “What the fuck Blondie?!” He clamped a hand over his ear, laughing. “Tell me that was not a wet willy.”

“Nope, just my frozen finger.” She smirked. “Now that you’re actually smiling we can take the picture. Now lean in.” And he couldn’t stop in spite of himself when she snapped the photo, and then the second, seeing stars when the flash went off. Titus seemed enthused to have everyone crowded around him and kept turning his face back and forth, trying to lick them, but eventually Stephanie was pleased enough with the results. 

“Alright, you are free to go,” she said absently, staring down at her phone as she stood up with a snort. “God, he looks like an alien worm. I’ll send these to you.” She waved her phone at Jason, as he too got up from the ground.

“Sounds good,” he drawled, feeling totally thrown. Jason had worked with Stephanie as Batgirl a few times, and enjoyed her more than most of the bats, but he’d never had much contact with her outside of the masks, if any. She didn’t seem to feel the separation like he did. Stephanie gave him a thumbs up and Tim followed with a helpless smile. She finally stuck her phone in her pocket and gave him a serious look.

“Now go get some rest. Don’t get sick.” 

Jason gave a mock solute, ignoring the way his arm burned with the motion.

“See you around,” he said as he turned away, unable to wait for either of them to do the same. Titus seemed reluctant to leave but Jason tugged on his leash and he begrudgingly followed. It was turning dark outside and was pitch black by the time they made it back to Jason’s apartment. His arm was killing him, and he was glad Tim baled him out of getting coffee for more than one reason because he felt like all he wanted to do was sleep.

His brain was exhausted, his body fighting an infection, and kinda maybe losing. He took more antibiotics when they got back, ran himself a bath as hot as he could stand it and forced himself to stay mostly submerged for as long as he could manage, including the arm. It hurt like knives stabbing into his skin but short of a salt pack it was the only thing he could think to do for it. plus he’d been shivering and shaking since halfway through his walk with Tim and it took longer than expected for him to finally feel overheated. Long enough that the water itself wasn’t so warm anymore.

There was a text from Stephanie when he finally got out and pulled a set of sweats on. It was three pictures, the first photo, in the dim light, you could just barely make out their faces. Their teeth shone bright in contrast to everything else, but they were all clearly laughing. Titus had turned halfway sideways, tongue hanging out of his mouth. 

The second was one with flash, and Jason couldn’t help by huff out a laugh when he looked at it. All three of them were squinting pretty dramatically and Tim had one eye shut completely, a pained look on his face while Titus’ eyes were both closed.

The third one was another with flash. Tim was mid word, face comically frozen with his mouth half open, snide look on his face. Stephanie looked annoyed and Titus had turned sideways and had his tongue hallway up the side of Jason’s face who was laughing with his lips and eyes pressed tightly closed. He didn’t remember taking that one, but he saved all three of them.

Along with the photos was a short message.

 _Stephanie:_  
_I love the third one, you’re adorable._  
_Just let me know if there’s an ass I need to kick. 💪🏻_

Jason sat on his couch, wrapped in the throw from his bed, the one Alfred had knitted him when he was a kid, and thumbed at the edge of his phone. Titus was passed out in his bed, exhausted from the extensive bout of fetch.

 _Jason:_  
_I’m good Blondie, but thanks._

Her reply was nearly instant.

 _Stephanie:_  
_Anytime, seriously_

He swallowed against the lump in his throat and opened Dick’s last message, knowing perfectly well he’d been unfair to him.

 _Jason:_  
_You can call off the hounds, I’m fine._

And because he knew it would invite all kinds of questions he sent a second text.

 _Jason:_  
_I just don’t want to talk right now, so just leave it._

The three little dots telling him that Dick was writing a reply blinked back at him for so long he started to worry it wouldn’t matter but when the message came in it was short. Short enough Jason thought he probably wrote and erased it four times before sending it.

 _Dick:_  
_Ok, thank you for texting._

Jason rolled his shoulders out, thinking he should probably eat something but not being particularly hungry. His stomach was a little uneasy and he didn’t know if it was from the antibiotics, the infection, or his shitty mental state, but he levered himself off the couch either way and forced down a bowl of cereal.

He took a minute to send the third photo from the park, the one where Titus was licking Jason to Damian, thinking he would get a kick out of Tim’s face. Then he climbed into bed with Titus and his book, ready to call it a night at seven pm. The reply came quickly, it would be midnight in London so Jason figured they were probably at their hotel, winding down. He knew from personal experience that it was hard to go to sleep at a normal hour when you were used to staying up until three every day. Even in a different time zone the circadian rhythm was strong.

 _Damian:_  
_Glad to see things haven’t changed while we’ve been away, you are all still nincompoops._

Jason snorted so hard he choked, jostling Titus enough to get an annoyed grunt in return.

 _Jason:_  
_You have the vocabulary of a 90 year old Englishman._

 _Damian:_  
_Better than an American teenager._

“Titus, you believe this kid?” Jason adjusted his grip on his book and sent a thumbs down in return. “Insulting a whole generation.”

He read for an hour more maybe, right up until his stomach started feeling more than just uneasy.

“I am not gonna puke three times in one week,” he told himself. _“I’m not even sick.”_ He put his book down, rolling over and shoving his face in his pillows, butting his back up against Titus next to him.

He was almost drifting off when his phone buzzed again. He was gonna ignore it, but it was barely eight and now that he knew what a freaking worry wort Damian was he still picked it up off his night stand to unlock it with bleary eyes.

 _Bruce:_  
_I like the picture, you look happy. It’s good to see you all getting along._

Jason blinked at it for a moment, swallowing convulsively before he was throwing himself out of bed and fumbling for the toilet, heaving as hard as he could into the sink when he didn’t quite make it. Hot acid exploded out of him, milk and half digested cereal splattering against the freshly cleaned porcelain.

His knees gave out and he slid to the floor, resting his forehead against the vanity and cursing himself. He fumbled for a wad of toilet paper and wiped his mouth. Titus pattered into the doorway and Jason groaned, pressing both hands to his face, waiting for his stomach to ease. He felt dizzy.

Titus licked the side of his head and nosed at his ear, grumbling low in his throat. It hit him absurdly hard in that instant how much he was going to miss this stupid dog.

“Fuck,” he whispered. Titus sat next to him and Jason leaned on him, wrapping both arms around his neck and pressing his face into the soft fur. His stomach rolled and he tensed, but it passed slowly, leaving him breathing hard and sweating but feeling mildly better for it.

There were two more days before they got back. Day ten was just around the corner and there was this awful _dread_ hitting him like a punch to the stomach.

He could get his own. It wasn’t like he hadn’t though about it - about going to the animal shelter and picking one out. But then he thought, it would probably be selfish. Jason was way too much of a disaster to be in charge of anything or anyone. He was barely managing ten days with Titus and it felt more like the dog was taking care of him than the other way around.

But Jason had never had a pet before beyond the strays in the alley who never really belonged to anyone and he didn’t realize how much...how nice it was to have this being that was always happy to see you. That had no idea how awful you were, that had no expectations of you. There was no pressure and even when you were a total disaster they didn’t care.

They just wanted food and scratches and some attention. It was addicting, the easy, unconditional love and Jason hated that he was such a wimp and how easy it was to see now, why the demon brat loved animals so much when it was so much harder to get along with people. 

So much more complicated to deal with the ups and downs and whether or not you even deserved the effort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: relatively detailed description of vomiting. If you want to skip it, stop reading at “Jason blinked for a moment, swallowing convulsively” and pick up again at “His knees gave out and he slid to the floor” Nothing else really that I can think of...
> 
> ________
> 
> Someday Jason will actually talk to Dick for realz, sorry if that’s what you were looking for here lol. We’re very close to Bruce and Damian’s return here...get ready. 
> 
> So I mentioned Roy and Kori here briefly and I just wanted to throw out there....I never finished their run of Red Hood and the Outlaws, so I don’t actually know how they all parted, or if they did at all or if DC just tore up the continuity when they introduced rebirth. Whatever it was....we’re saying it was amicable here and wasn’t necessarily meant to be permanent lol. 
> 
> Just as a general “announcement” I’m Leaving for a trip next weekend and will be out of town for a full week doing touristy stuff so I’m not sure what’s gonna end up happening with the next update....aka it could be very late. Adding to that busy-ness the next chapter will have a companion piece one shot!! I drafted it this last week and I’d like to post them together, so that may add to the delay... Hope you enjoyed this very slightly early update! 
> 
> Chapter title from The New Great Depression by The Moth & The Flame
> 
> Remember I have a [tumblr](https://batbirdies.tumblr.com) if you’re interested. I’m not as active as I used to be but I’m usually on for a little bit every couple days.


	10. The creak and the thud inside your chest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The infection was only getting worse, but Jason didn’t know what to _do._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, warnings in end notes.
> 
> Here we are...I did work on this while on vacation but am back home now. (And can I just say, I’m from the Seattle area and HOLY COW corona virus can SHOVE IT lmao. We actually, literally, were uninvited from a tour I had scheduled because we are from Washington. UNCOOL).
> 
> I had a hard time with this chapter but I finally had to tell myself to just stop messing with it and move on. I hope you all still like it. I did do some editing but I have not done a final run through of this chapter as I just want to get it posted. I just got home tonight at 10pm, it’s currently just before midnight and with the time difference, feels like nearly 3am to me lmao. So I’m just POSTING.

They were coming to pick up Titus the next day. Jason was trying not to think about it.

He woke up groggy and miserable. Checked his wound in the bathroom sink and found it hot to the touch, inflamed and incredibly tender. He thought he might have a fever but it was low and he forced down more antibiotics. When he attempted to eat a piece of toast he ended up gagging on the second bite.

Jason felt worse than the day before. _A lot_ worse. The fatigue he’d been fighting for the last little bit was multiplied by ten. Staying out in the cold for too long probably hadn’t done him any favors even if he had gone to bed early. Not to mention he was sure he wasn’t eating enough, not when his last “meal” hadn’t stayed down longer than a couple hours.

It was all he could do that morning to just...focus on the necessities. Get Titus on his first walk, get down the damn stairs. By the time they reached the bottom he was already dreading going back up. His head was pounding, and his joints hurt and it was apparent that Jason had waited too long. 

He shut his eyes briefly while Titus was sniffing around at the base of a stop sign and actually, honestly zoned out, blinked his eyes open he didn’t know how much later when Titus was pulling gently on the lead to keep on down the sidewalk. He should have called Alfred, or Leslie, he should have gone to the hospital. 

Jason could still go to the hospital, technically. But every time he thought about it he imagined being crammed in an emergency room waiting area with all those people. Crying babies, crying _adults,_ people arguing with the front desk, the questions they would ask, having to pretend and lie about who he was. It made his heart beat so hard it hurt and just the thought of it had his skin crawling, had the angry green of the Pit coming up through his pores like sweat.

It would be the grocery store all over again, except worse because he couldn’t take Titus with him and he’d be surrounded by people who were already hurt. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t risk it.

He just had to get a handle on it himself. 

Before going back up to his apartment he took a second to check his mail in the lobby. He wasn’t the best about it, a chore he generally ignored unless he was expecting something. The identity he had his apartment under was that of a recovering gambling addict and his mailbox was usually just full of ads for casinos and _Minimize Debt Faster! Call Today!_ flyers. This time was no different. He had to yank so hard on a stack of smashed cardboard flyers that he tore most of them in half trying to get them out. But it paid off in the end because his new router was shoved under the most recent stack of crumpled envelopes. 

He tucked it under his arm and somehow managed to drag himself and Titus back up the steps. By the time they reached his floor Jason was breathing hard. Hard enough he had to pause at his door and rest his head against the peeling paint for a moment before he let himself in. 

Somehow he convinced himself it would be an easy project he could tackle even while feeling like the walking dead. It didn’t go as well as he’d hoped though. Part of the problem was that Titus wouldn’t leave him alone. Tucked half behind his television with the tv cabinet pulled away from the wall he kept trying to wiggle in next to him. And while normally Jason would find it mostly amusing, the combination of his exhaustion, the pain in his arm, and the way the little numbers on the side of the router blurred in his vision it was enough to make him pause before he lost his temper and did something shitty like yell at the dog. 

It wasn’t Titus’ fault that Jason was an idiot and an asshole and something about the way he was acting made Jason think...made him think that he was worried about him or something. Maybe that was reading a little too far into it though, maybe dogs didn’t have the capacity to _worry_ but he seemed anxious, and Jason had no doubt whose fault _that_ was. 

He gave up on the router completely the third time his laptop alerted him that he had no internet connection and he felt a phantom thrum from the Pit. Nope. He wasn’t dealing with that. He actually laughed, when it happened, sitting back on his heels, crouched behind the tv. It was a choked, half hysterical thing Jason stifled as quickly as he could manage, pressing a hand to his mouth and breathing through his nose to try and calm the instant spike in his heart rate. God he was _losing_ it.

Shaking his head, he stood up, leaving the tv pulled out from the wall and the new router abandoned on its side, wires hanging everywhere. 

He should eat something. Jason knew he needed calories, that it was at least part of the reason he was feeling so shaky and unwell. He slumped back down on his couch and was trying to think of any food that didn’t send him into cold sweats but was mostly unsuccessful. Titus wandered over and sat on the floor, leaning into the side of Jason’s leg. 

It was then that his phone buzzed. Bruce and Damian would be heading to the airport soon probably and Jason figured Damian would have some weirdly specific instructions for him. He tugged his phone out of his pocket with a sigh and unlocked the screen. 

_Bruce:_  
_I can’t help but notice you haven’t replied to any of my recent messages, is everything alright?_

Jason froze where he sat.

What was he supposed to say?

His phone buzzed again.

 _Bruce:_  
_I’ve missed hearing from you. If I’ve upset you in any way, I’d like to work it out. We’re heading to the airport in a couple hours but I can call before we go._

Jason heaved out a shuddering exhale and pressed his fingers into his eyelids.

Unbidden tears welled up in his eyes instantly and he cursed himself as he swiped his sleeve over his face. Everything felt so close to the surface, like his emotions were wildly out of control. It was probably the infection, the fever, it could do the same shit to you as a concussion but knowing that didn’t help.

Jason sat there for a long time, staring down at Titus who sat patiently by his feet, looking up at him in return. His phone rang some minutes later, making Jason jump and stare at the Batman logo that lit up his screen. Bruce didn’t know he had that, would probably thoroughly disapprove.

He watched the pulsing green button that would answer the call and felt his heart seize in his chest. He couldn’t handle it. Jason couldn’t handle any of it because it wouldn’t work. It just wouldn’t.

No matter how much Bruce wanted it to. 

And Jason thought maybe, maybe he really did, really wanted things with Jason to get better. But they couldn’t.

Because Jason couldn’t even patrol anymore, couldn’t even go to the goddamned grocery store without nearly killing someone or possibly even worse, even though - even though he didn’t want to, even though it terrified him. He could feel the Pit inside him like a living breathing entity all its own, a constant drumming like a second heartbeat. Even if it wasn’t rearing up and hungry it was there, always watching and he was terrified of what it would do to him the longer he resisted. 

He couldn’t fucking set up a router.

He couldn’t talk to Bruce, he couldn’t let him or any of the others see this, they couldn’t know. It would ruin everything. It would ruin the texts with Damian, the coffee with Babs, talking to Tim and Stephanie at the dog park, even his and Dick’s _stupid_ conversation because at least Dick had _tried._ But especially with Bruce and calling him about Titus, leaving him a gift stashed somewhere in the manor he was too fucking _repressed_ to give him, sending him pictures and messages about books.

Trying to call him when he thought Jason was upset. Twice now.

And it didn’t fix everything but they were all _trying._ For _him._ And he didn’t want to undo it all because Jason wouldn’t be able to take it when it all inevitably fell apart. 

He sucked in a deep, wavering breath and watched the screen go blank, letting his hand fall forward and rubbing at Titus’ snout. 

Jason spent the next three hours laying on his couch, swallowing every knotted up feeling trying to come up his throat and trying to force himself to get up and eat something. The very idea nearly made him gag. And maybe he was wrong before, because Titus kept laying down next to the couch and then getting up and sticking his face right up in Jason’s, sniffing at him like he was trying to figure something out. Maybe he _was_ worried. Jason would be the last person to underestimate the emotional capacity of an animal at this point. 

Eventually he got up and took another dose of the antibiotics, though at that point it felt like a wasted effort. Knowing how he felt on them though, he hated to think how he’d feel without them. He added a couple Tylenol on top of that, hoping it would bring his fever down and maybe he wouldn’t feel like quite as much shit.

Then he made himself some soup broth, thinking he could at least manage to keep that down, just heating it up straight from the container, adding some salt. Just standing at the stove top he felt dizzy. He stood against the kitchen counter, blowing on it and trying to find the smell appetizing for too long before he finally drank it. Barely a single cup in and he was puking it back into the kitchen sink, breathing hard, arms propped on the edge of the counter, clammy and burning up from the inside. It was at that point that Jason was struck by how _off_ he felt. It wasn’t just the general malaise or the extreme nausea. Beyond how tired he was and how every little thing had him breathing like he’d just run a full mile at top speed. He just felt not right.

Everything in him felt off, like little short circuits sparking through his body, flares of anxiety and the Pit pulling every backwards urge up in his chest. 

There was nothing left but to try salting the wound to draw out the infection. So that’s what he did. He brought the entire Morton’s container into the bathroom with him, shutting the door so Titus wouldn’t walk in. 

Jason poured it on in a thick layer. It felt like holding an open flame to his skin. He almost puked again when he started rubbing it into the wound, unable to hold back from groaning aloud, hissing quick, shallow breaths through his teeth. 

Bruce and Damian would be there _the next morning_ to pick up Titus. He could not be this much of a disaster when they did. He had to at least be able to pretend like he was fine. He knew he should call Alfred, but at that point it would invite so many more questions.

 _Why didn’t you call sooner? How did you let it get this bad? You can’t stay here alone, I’m taking you back to the manor with me._ And Jason couldn’t stand that. He couldn’t go back there, he couldn’t, not when he felt like he was going to explode, like he was a balloon stuck in a thorn bush - one false move from disappearing all together. 

Jason wrapped up the wound, salt and all, and forced down a full glass of water. Titus sniffed at his arm suspiciously when he sat on the couch, laying at his feet. He felt like his batteries had run out. Like a little mechanical toy slowly losing power and he just wanted to sleep. He just wanted to go to sleep and wake up and for things to be _different._

He laid down on the couch, pulling the throw over him and shoving his face into the pillow, trying with all his might to block out the _fire_ in his left arm. He figured his dreams wouldn’t be good. Not with the fever and everything else but they surprised him still sometimes.

  
  


*

  
  


Jason was at the dog park, but Titus wasn’t there. It was dark and freezing outside. He was rubbing his hands up and down his arms trying to get warm.

There was barely enough light to see by, just the stars and moon illuminating the grounds around him. He was looking around for Titus, shouting his name but there was nothing, no response, no answering bark or the sound of his collar jingling when he walked. Not until he turned around and there was a different dog, the Rottweiler from before, and it was running - running right for him. Jason felt his heart lurch in his throat. He turned to escape but his feet felt like they were moving through sand, like he had cinderblocks tied to his ankles and there was laughing. Laughing coming from somewhere in the distance but all around him too. And then the dog hit him from behind. It knocked him over and clamped down on his arm with enough force to make him scream. His head hit the ground so hard he blacked out.

When he opened his eyes again it wasn’t to a grassy park.

It was dark, and Jason was running, the flesh of his left forearm was mangled, throbbing with every pounding footstep. He ducked into an alley and up a fire escape, throwing himself onto the roof and scrambling to his feet. Something was following him, and it was close. Jason’s heart was in his throat, beating so hard it sounded like a drum in the back of his head. 

He slipped and slid over the roof, barely managing a leap between buildings, uncoordinated and sluggish. He was losing blood alarmingly fast, his arm gushed with every new wave of pain. When he looked down dread shot through him, because the blood...the blood wasn’t right, it was- it was _green_ and it was running all over him, soaking into his clothes.

There was a low noise somewhere in the distance. The sound sparked a shiver of terror up Jason’s spine and he ran as fast as he could, feeling like he had no control of his body, like no matter how much he was telling his feet to move they just weren’t getting the signal. 

A shadow moved in front of him and Jason faltered, tripping and falling to his hands and knees with a pained yelp . He heaved for air, feeling nauseas as the shadows grew and grew, and morphed around him, closing slowly in. 

“Stop! _Stop!_ Bruce! Somebody!” Jason scrambled back on his hands, but the shadows weren’t really shadows, they were smoke, permeating the air in thicker and thicker clouds.

“I-I-I-“ He stuttered, unable to form words as he pushed himself back. 

Jason cradled his arm to his chest looking for somewhere to go, someplace he could escape to. He saw the facade of his own building just a block away, Titus was in the window of his apartment, barking and barking and oddly Jason could hear it. Hear it loud enough that it echoed.

Loud enough that when he looked back to the smoke, there was just the ceiling above his couch, water stain and all.

He was blinking in the dark, and flinched when that echoing bark came right by his ear. 

Jason hissed, rolling away from the noise as a tongue accompanied it, licking insistently at the side of his face. “Stop it-“ Jason slurred, and his voice didn’t sound right and he didn’t feel right. 

No, actually he felt _very wrong._ His head was spinning, dizzy enough that he closed his eyes only to snap them open when it just made it worse. He was freezing, shaking like he’d never stop. His mouth was so dry it hurt to swallow and Jason groaned, shoving his face in the pillow. 

Titus whined from behind him and Jason blinked his eyes open.

Water, a glass of water would help. God he was thirsty, now that he thought about it. He shifted on the couch, attempting to prop himself up on his elbows only to black out and fall halfway to the floor when his infected arm pressed into the cushions. 

“Shit, _fuck.”_

Titus barked again and Jason pressed his palms into his eyes, hissing through his teeth. The room was spinning. He felt like he was gonna puke. 

Water, he was getting a glass of water. He managed, somehow, to get himself upright on the couch but he sat there shaking for long enough he must have faded out again because the next thing he knew Titus was sitting on the cushion next to him nosing at his cheek and whining. 

He sat forward, leaning heavily on his right arm propped on the edge of the couch. Titus jumped down to the floor and woofed at him, low but insistent and Jason took a deep, shuddering breath through his nose to ride out a wave of nausea. 

This was bad, he registered in the back of his mind. Very bad. He was so cold and he felt so _not right_ he knew on a bone deep level that his temperature must be sky high. Every movement made his head throb but his mouth and throat were so dry and - and water was good, for a fever, he thought...yeah, that was right. He just had to....get off the couch. 

He nearly gagged at the very idea but steadfastly shifted his weight so he could stand. In his addled state though, he forgot the blanket still half wrapped around him and caught his feet up in it when he tried to stand.

Stumbling, he knocked into the coffee table and fell hard on his right hip. Something hit the floor with him and Jason lay there, blinking into the dark of his living room and the lights from the city leaking in through his blinds, groaning and trying not to pass out from the pain. Titus stood over him, barking again, making him flinch. 

He literally couldn’t move, and - for a minute there he...he forgot what he was doing. Why had he been trying to get up?

“Shit,” Jason slurred again, trying to halfheartedly push Titus face away from his own when he started licking him and whining. He was so weak he might as well be pushing on a brick wall. Titus shifted his feet and stepped on something. His claws clacked across it until he knocked it to the side, sending it sliding over the carpet until it hit Jason in the shoulder. 

His cell phone. That’s right, he had knocked it off the coffee table when he fell. He fumbled a hand for it and squeezed his eyes shut tight against the glaring light of the screen. Jason should call - he needed to call someone. ‘Cause he wasn’t gettin’ off that floor. 

God he...even through the vague haze his brain was in there was a deep dread slowly breaking the surface, and with it, an intense urgency to - he needed to talk to - to _Bruce_ he...there was...he needed to talk to him. 

Jason shifted onto his side, grunting the whole way and squinting painfully into the light of the screen. He could barely figure out how to navigate it, hands shaking so hard he missed the icon for his contacts three times. It was probably mostly luck, and the fact that B was early in the alphabet that he even made it to the right number. But somehow, the phone was ringing. He pressed it to his ear clumsily, nearly dropping it on his face. 

There was a reason....he needed to talk to Bruce, he knew he did, but the more it rang the less Jason could remember about why he was calling him. When the voicemail picked up Jason rolled half over and pressed his face into the carpet, closing his eyes in frustration and some swirling mix of unidentifiable emotion. 

He was on a plane, Jason remembered. He couldn’t answer. But Jason still had things to say, there was still-

“Bruce. I’m...” The words came out a little slurred and Jason trailed off, trying to get his mind together enough to say the things that had been bubbling up in his chest for days. “I’m still mad at you,” he blurted, half into the rug, breathing harder than he should for the little bit of effort it took. 

Titus laid down on the floor in front of him, head on his paws as he watched Jason, ears down. 

“I don’t know-“ He took a deep breath, “I don’t know what you think you’re doing.” His voice cracked with the pressure building in his throat and Jason closed his eyes, head swimming, dizzy and nauseas and lost.

“But I-uh...your pictures were nice.” With the dread there was this - this strange over arching sadness filling in all the cracks inside him. “That sunrise was nice.” 

Titus suddenly stood up again, nosing at his face with a low whine and Jason tried to move back, shifted his left arm trying to adjust his position and hissed through his teeth at the spike of pain that whited out his already blurry vision. God there were tears in his eyes and he was so - he was _so stupid. What was wrong with him?_

“I fucked up,” he choked out, overwhelmed by - by _everything_ he couldn’t even think. “Shit Bruce. I-” Jason swallowed convulsively, dropped his phone and managed to prop himself up just enough to vomit on the floor without getting it down his front. 

But that was it, that was all the strength he had left and he collapsed back on his side, groaning loudly at the pain and then there was Titus whining and barking, frantic. It sent spikes through his already pounding head. Jason just wanted to- he didn’t know. The room was spinning and he felt like he was dying and there was a little thought in the back of his mind with a spark of alarm.

He knew what that felt like. This wasn’t good. But just as quickly as the thought processed he was gone. Blacked out on his living room floor, a soft ringing filling his ears until it covered over the barking, until there was nothing but static and then nothing at all. 

  
  


*

  
  


He came in and out, for a while. A nudge from Titus’ nose, or a tongue up the side of his face rousing him just enough to be in pain before he passed out again.

There were dreams, quick and violent.

Slow and blurry and constantly changing.

But then there was one, one crystal clear moment from back when he was fourteen. 

Bruce had woken him up in the middle of the night, dragging him out of bed. Jason had been confused, thinking it was some kind of surprise training exercise. Bruce had only laughed.

“No Jay, come on, put your coat on, we’re going outside.”

“Why? Bruce, what are we _doing?_ I’m tired, it’s the middle of the friggin’ _night._ I was _asleep.”_ Jason threw an arm dramatically over his eyes, sitting slumped on the edge of his bed. When he moved his arm to peak out, Bruce was standing there with his arms crossed, looking amused.

“You should try out for the next school play. Now, come on, there’s something I want to show you.”

Jason, in spite of himself, was curious, so he slipped out of bed, threw on a pair of jeans, a sweatshirt and his coat and followed Bruce through the dark manor, his boots slipping on his bare ankles. They went out the main back door onto the grounds and Jason had to jog a little to keep up with Bruce’s long strides, looking up at him from behind. 

“Come on,” he huffed, “where are you taking me? Is this the part where I find out you’ve been burying Robins in the back yard? I always knew a guy who dressed up like a bat had to be deranged.” 

Bruce choked on a laugh and stopped in his tracks, turning back to Jason with one raised eyebrow. 

“I’ve taught you better than to give away the game so early. Now I have no reason to wait.” Suddenly he moved, snatching Jason around the waist and hauling him up to hang over his shoulder.

“What- _Child abuse!”_ Jason pounded his fists on Bruce’s back, barely able to get the words out around his own laughter. Bruce remained unaffected by his struggling and marched through the grass, barely illuminated by a thin sliver of moon high in the sky. Right up until they reached some indeterminate location and he stopped, jarring a cough out of Jason before he let him slip back to the ground. 

“Alright, sit down.” Bruce gestured to the grass where they stood on a small slope.

“What? Why?” As Jason asked Bruce was already lowering himself down.

“You’ll see, now come on.”

“Do you just enjoy keeping secrets? I think that’s what it is.” But Jason obediently folded to the ground, sitting cross legged in the damp grass, feeling the tickle of the green blades against his ankles. “Now what?”

“Now look up.” Bruce gestured to the sky, and tilted his head back as he spoke. 

Jason glanced up, expecting to see the heavy clouds he was accustomed to, and then had to do a double take. The sky was clear. Not a cloud in site and a spattering of stars over inky black stared back at him. A little white streak shot across the sky as he was watching. “Whoa,” he breathed.

“There’s a meteor shower tonight. There was little hope it would be clear enough to see anything, but the clouds dispersed as soon as the sun went down.” Bruce leaned back, propping himself on his hands. Jason had no such compunctions and flopped fully backwards, laying flat in the grass.

“I’ve never seen this many stars.” 

Bruce glanced at him, and it was dark enough Jason couldn’t get a good look at his face but he slowly lowered himself back to lay next to him in the grass. “That’s not surprising,” he said quietly, “there’s too much light pollution in the city. We’re still too close to get a good look even out here, but on a clear night like this...it’s worth looking.” 

Jason scooted over on the lawn until he was shoulder to shoulder with Bruce, pulling his coat tighter around him at the chill of the night air. “There’s another one!” Jason shot a hand out, pointing to a bright line across the sky that faded just as fast as it appeared.

“Good eye, I missed that one.” 

Jason shivered, a tremble running up his spine and through his shoulders. He was sure he blushed when Bruce looked over but it was too dark for him to see. Without a word he lifted an arm in invitation. Jason only hesitated for a second before scooting even further over, lifting his head just enough that Bruce could settle his arm underneath, wrapping fully around his shoulders and pulling him close. 

“Better?” Bruce asked, rubbing a hand up and down his arm.

“Yeah,” Jason whispered, staring up into the sky. 

They didn’t speak again for a long time. Jason just remembered the stars, and Bruce, holding him close, keeping him warm. He’d watched for a while, mesmerized by meteors, just like anything he’d never seen before. It wasn’t long before he was drifting again, his eyelids heavy with interrupted sleep and the solid frame of Bruce’s arm around him. 

There were flashes of other things, Bruce’s whispered voice, words he couldn’t remember, the shift in weight when he was lifted off the ground. Steady footfalls jarring him just enough to press awareness into his sleepy brain. 

All of it was dark, and soft, and full of something Jason couldn’t name. 

But the memory slipped, and an insistent noise pulled him back to the dark living room.

He blinked his eyes open to dim light and a loud buzzing noise near his head. Jason didn’t know what it was, but it hurt his ears and if he had the strength or the coordination he would swat it away like an annoying insect. He couldn’t keep his eyes open, and the buzzing faded out just as quickly as it roused him.

There was nothing but dark then, just silent, coal-black swirling around him. He had no idea for how long.

And then abruptly, everything shifted.

The world felt like it tilted sideways. Jason lurched, trying to get his feet under him, disoriented and confused, lights blurring and colors shifting, sounds he couldn’t make any sense of, a flash of pain. But he couldn’t coordinate his limbs and then it was raining. It was raining and the water was freezing, and he was fumbling, clumsy, it hurt, God everything just _hurt._ He stumbled in the wet, squelching grass. It was dark, pitch black and there was nothing around, nothing but graves and the dead. 

Jason stumbled, slipping sideways and catching himself with one hand in the grass, gasping at the pain that lanced through his arm. Somehow he managed to hobble back to his feet and keep going. There was...he had to get somewhere. There was somewhere he needed to be. 

But he couldn’t, he couldn’t think-

“B...” His lips were stiff, cold and half numb.

“Bruce,” he whispered it, his throat raw from screaming, from spitting up dirt and mud. He was missing a fingernail, he couldn’t breathe. _“Bruce.”_

“I’m here.”

Jason jolted, spinning around in the dark. “Bruce.”

“You’re alright, I’m right here, I’ve got you.”

But that wasn’t right, that wasn’t _right._ The scene wavered, because Bruce wasn’t there when he crawled out of his grave. It was empty, and dark, and cold and wet and Jason was alone. 

“Bruce.”

“I’m here, I’m right here Jay.” But that was his voice. That was him talking, even though he didn’t sound right, like something was lodged in his throat. There were arms around Jason, holding him tight even while the freezing rain poured down on hi- them. It was uncomfortable, it hurt, it hurt a lot.

 _“Hurts,”_ he gasped it, like a dying fish and the arms around him tightened. 

“I know, I’m sorry, you’re going to be alright, we’ve got to get your fever down.”

“Mnf,” Jason tried to make words but they wouldn’t form in his mouth right. He thought he was sitting down, but the ground was hard, not soft and squishy like he remembered. And it was _bright._

“Alfred says the cave will be ready whenever we get there. Is he...is he doing ok?” And that was - that was Dick. He sounded, his voice sounded small.

“He’ll be fine, once he’s more lucid we can go, I just need his temperature to come down before we move him.” There was shuffling around him and more words he didn’t quite catch. He wasn’t - outside he didn’t think. And it wasn’t-

“Bruce?” He was blinking his eyes open trying desperately to see, to remember. And he did see, there were lots of things around them, but for some reason it wasn’t - it didn’t make sense.

“I’ve got you, I’m right here.”

“‘s cold.”

“I know, I’m sorry, your temperature is too high.” There was a hand on his forehead, fingers combing through his hair. He was leaning back against something firm but soft, bracketed in on either side. There was water pounding down on them steadily, making him shake, shake so hard his teeth were chattering together.

“You have an infection Jay, a bad one. _What were you thinking?”_ And the words were whispered right in his ear, right behind him, and Bruce sounded so upset. Choked up like Jason couldn’t remember hearing him ever.

“S-s-sorry.”

“Sshh.” He was staring up at the ceiling, and that’s what it was, his ceiling, the ceiling in his bathroom. Bruce was holding him, carding his fingers through his soaking hair, pulling it back so the water didn’t run in his eyes.

“We’re m-...m’ shower?” The words didn’t connect right, his tongue felt drunk, like it was trying to stand up and couldn’t keep its balance.

“We’re in your shower, you have a very high fever Jay, I’m trying to bring your temperature down.” 

Right, right, that - he had had a fever. Jason shifted in the tub, knocking his right elbow into the side, he didn’t like leaning back like this, but Bruce put a hand on his chest and held him in place. 

“Not yet, Jay.” There was a tiny flare of rebellion before it quickly dispersed, like a snuffed out flame. Jason couldn’t fight him even if he wanted to.

“Bite.”

“What was that, Jason?” Bruce shifted, letting one of his legs slide flat in the tub and Jason registered with an absence of feeling that they were both fully clothed, sitting in his bathtub, shower running.

“Bite, d-dog bite.”

“Your arm.” At that Bruce moved the hand from his head to grip high on his left forearm, lifting it in front of both of them. Jason stared at the exposed flesh, bright, angry red and purple bruised, swollen, little raised welts of white scattered over the skin.

“Bandage?” He still couldn’t quite seem to manage proper grammar.

“I removed it. You likely have a chemical burn from the salt.” Bruce lowered his arm back down, carefully, but it still jostled against Jason’s stomach when he let go and Jason let out an involuntary noise. 

_“Sorry.”_ Bruce started drawing his fingers through his hair again. “Do you know what day it is?”

Jason closed his eyes, feeling himself fading out, wanting nothing more than to go back to sleep.

“Day you g-get back.”

“The day of the week, Jay.”

“S-Sunday

“Good.”

“Titus,” he said, not really sure why the word came out until he was blinking his eyes open again, trying to sit forward.

“What about him, Jay?” Bruce locked his arms, not letting him up.

“He needs, _Titus,_ he - been too long, needs to- to go out.”

“It’s alright, Damian’s taking care of him, it’s ok.” Jason fell back, groaning when a hard shiver racked through his frame.

“You’re ok, you’re alright.”

“‘m tired.” And cold, and more and more uncomfortably wet.

“I know, just stay awake a little longer and you can sleep. Dick is getting you some dry clothes.” Changing his clothes sounded like a monumental task when his limbs were shaking like his mom’s used to when she went too long without a fix. He closed his eyes again.

Jason registered a pressure on the crown of his head, arms tightening around him. _“Don’t ever scare me like that again.”_ The words were muffled, spoken against his wet hair and Jason felt dread in his limbs, like lead, inexplicably bringing tears to his eyes.

“Sorry,” he whispered back, hoping somehow that it could cover his future sins too.

He felt _so tired._

When Dick came back into the room, eyebrows pinched together in concentration, carrying a pile of Jason’s clothing and stacking it on the counter by the sink Jason was only vaguely aware, letting himself be lulled by the repetitive motion of fingers through his hair. There was so much.

There was so much between them and ahead of them, ahead of Jason. But it was too much to think about just then, too much to comprehend when he was feverish and shaking, when his dad was holding him. He should have pulled away, shouldn’t have let himself have this when it was only temporary because when things fell apart, like he knew they would, it would only hurt worse.

But he was so tired and sick and he couldn’t bring himself to fight Bruce when he was like this. He felt a deep seated relief overlay the dread for the future because now at least Jason didn’t have to think for a while. He could rest.

Bruce shifted him forward and Jason followed as best he could, feeling like a newborn deer trying to climb out of his tub.

“Alright we’re gonna get you up and into some dry clothes, ok Jay?” Dick was crouched at the side of the tub and Jason stared at the floor, remembering a little too clearly the last time they had spoken. He helped lift Jason’s feet over the edge while Bruce held his shoulders. Everything else was a blur, changing his clothes, moving through his apartment. He had no idea how they made it down his stairs except that Bruce must have carried him, because there was no way he did it by his own power.

The last thing he registered was laying in the back seat of Bruce’s car, damp cloth on his forehead, Dick hovering over him, a hand on his upper arm. There was a fumbling noise and a sharp call of “Titus!” 

Jason blinked his eyes open to see the dog fold himself up in the floor of the backseat, barely able to fit. He rested his head on the seat in front of Jason and licked at his arm.

 _“Hey, hey, hey.”_ Dick tried to shoo him away but Jason grunted.

“No, ‘s fine. He’s ok.” He reached out with one heavy limb and ran it over Titus’ head. The dog whined a little, squirming closer until his nose was just bumping Dick’s leg. Jason carefully scratched behind his ears and closed his eyes, unable to resist the pull of sleep once the car was in motion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: vague nightmares, possibly life threatening physical illness, vomiting, high fever with serious side effects. One relatively vague flashback but with some...descriptive imagery. The “vaguely suicidal behavior” tag is basically at its worst in this chapter. Be safe! If you’d like a full description of the chapter I would be happy to provide one.
> 
> ________
> 
> So there you have it! Lol.
> 
> I mentioned in my authors note in the last chapter that I was planning a companion one shot to this fic but after some heavy self debate I decided to instead post the companion fic as another chapter in the main storyline. I didn’t want to initially because 1. It’s from Bruce’s perspective and so far this entire fic has been from Jason’s! And 2. Because there is a lot of overlap in them both. But I really want the companion fic to be part of the main story so I will instead be posting it as the next chapter in this fic as a sort of “intermission” and it will not be simultaneous with this chapter....I’m hoping to get it out in around a week like normal, possibly sooner.
> 
> Sorry! But I hope you’ll enjoy still. Please leave a (kind) comment if you like!


	11. Intermission: Precious and fragile things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce was uneasy. Jason had been ignoring him the past few days and he didn’t know why. It wasn’t until they were halfway through the airport and he saw he had a missed call that he began to understand just how serious this was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings in end notes!
> 
> Super early chapter look at that!!! Considering I had planned to upload them simultaneously and the extra long gap between the last two I decided to go ahead and post now since I was finished with it....
> 
> This chapter ended up being super long...like 10k words, so I guess buckle in for a long ride.
> 
> Just as a note for this and future chapters: I have no real medical knowledge. I based everything that has happened so far with Jason and his infection etc. on online research and personal experience.
> 
> It’s very difficult to find certain information online though. I ended up deeming most of it plausible because of two main experiences I’ve had. One when my older sister ended up in the hospital with a severe infection on one of her ovaries. And another when my grandmother became totally unintelligible and confused (terrifying, as I was the only one there) and it turned out she had diverticulitis, an infection in her digestive tract, and also ended up in the hospital. If you are a medical professional and it all feels unrealistic for any reason please feel free to tell me why and I will try to make some edits if i can lol. (Meaning if it doesn’t completely disrupt the story I have planned...otherwise I will deem it Creative LicenseTM) 
> 
> I did attempt to ask a medical professional in a writing forum but the only person who responded admitted they were _not_ one, and their answer wasn’t very helpful. I’VE DONE MY BEST.

Bruce sat in first class of the plane, looking out the window as they landed, worrying, absently, about Jason. He kept telling himself nothing was wrong. It wasn’t even mildly out of character for Jason to ignore him if he was annoyed for some reason, or even just busy. But after the surprise of Jason’s mostly amicable texts throughout their trip, Bruce had begun to hope that this was working. That they were moving in the right direction, that his therapist’s suggestions were actually effective and maybe things with Jason weren’t as hopeless as they felt at times. That maybe Jason was willing to give things with Bruce another chance, outside the masks.

But then he had stopped responding. Without even an excuse to get Bruce to leave him alone or an angry snap like before. While he was still responding to Damian, and had apparently met up with Tim and Stephanie a couple days previously.

They had just been getting back to their hotel after dinner that night when Damian’s phone chimed. His youngest had been tied to it like a life line for the majority of their trip, checking it frequently as if he may have missed something in the twenty minutes since he’d last looked. He dug it quickly out of his pocket and glanced at the notification while Bruce was taking off his coat and hanging it by the door. Damian walked passed him, tossing his own jacket on the foot of his bed and sitting down, criss-cross, next to it.

The snorted laugh a second later snagged Bruce’s attention and he looked back at his son. Damian coughed to cover it up, snickering under his breath and covering his mouth with one hand. Bruce raised his eyebrows, mouth corking up at the side. 

“What’s so funny?” 

Damian scoffed, quickly swallowing his smile. Bruce had figured it was something from Dick. Some internet thing or a photo from patrol of one of the rogues doing something particularly stupid. “It’s nothing.” 

But his eyes darted back down to the screen and his mouth twitched. Bruce eyed him for a moment, unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt. Damian glanced up with a scrutinizing expression and then sighed, holding out his phone as if Bruce were begging for it. He gave him an unimpressed look but took the couple steps to the bed to retrieve the phone. 

He expected to see The Riddler hanging from a giant question mark or Penguin with his head stuck through the fabric of an umbrella. What he found instead was a photo of Jason, Tim, and Stephanie with Titus. Bruce blinked in surprise, eyes scanning each of their faces in turn. He could see why Damian had laughed, but Bruce’s eyes were stuck on Jason.

He looked over the picture with a foreign feeling of warmth in his chest. It had been...probably years, since he’d seen Jason smile like that. 

But now, in the same way, it ached, and his nerves grew that it was him that was the problem. Jason was ignoring Bruce, not anyone else. Maybe he had misstepped, said the wrong thing. Perhaps the text about the bookshop had been too forward. Maybe Jason thought he was being _fake_ again.

Bruce opened their previous texts and scrolled through them quickly before closing the app with a shake of his head and pocketing his phone. Damian was stirring from sleep in the seat next to him. 

There was another absent concern weighing on his mind, Damian.

He hadn’t slept well throughout the trip, and Bruce worried it wasn’t new, but something that had only become apparent to him because they were in such close quarters for the last ten days. He was glad he at least fell asleep for a little while on the plane, though Bruce was sure it wasn’t deep. He was certain Damian was only able to doze because Bruce was there. Sleeping surrounded by strangers was not something Bruce could see him doing while alone. Bruce had barely coaxed him into it for the last two hours of the flight when his griping was beginning to get to him.

They waited patiently for the flight attendant to open the doors and Bruce held Damian back by the neck of his shirt while the rest of first class exited before following on their heels.

Bruce hated flying. Even with years of experience and even piloting under his belt, flying from one country to another was always uncomfortable in a very specific way. There was something unsettling about living a mostly full day in one place, boarding a plane and flying for eight hours and then exiting in the bright light of early morning. 

Perhaps it was because he had time traveled before, it always made him a little on edge, a feeling like something wasn’t right. Not knowing the sort of reception they would receive from Jason when they came to pick up Titus certainly wasn’t helping. 

Dick was meeting them at baggage claim, planned to take them out to breakfast and hear about their trip before driving to Jason’s since it was only just after six in the morning. Then it would be back to the manor and their regular routines.

The trip had gone well, minus a singular hiccup of a bad nightmare one night involving Titus. The fact that Bruce got that much out of his son was a miracle but he was glad to at least be reuniting the boy with his dog after all his concern. Bruce was considering talking to him about that... His worry over Titus seemed...unusual. Not that it wasn’t expected, but Bruce was concerned that it caused him so much anxiety to leave him when there was such a minor problem.

At least things seemed to have gone well while they were away. Jason was a much better sport about the photos and updates than Bruce had expected. But Jason had always had a soft spot for younger kids. Even with their volatile history Jason would indulge Damian.

Bruce didn’t know exactly why he was so uneasy as they walked through the airport. Jason was perfectly fine as of two days ago. The photo was proof. It was just...things had been going well, and now Bruce had no idea where he stood. He had thought the distance would be good to start with. Something easy, no pressure, a way to communicate without the tension of being in the same room together. 

But the distance also meant Bruce couldn’t see Jason, couldn’t get a glimpse of his expression or body language when he read Bruce’s messages. He couldn’t gauge his mood, nor could he ask.

After the singular waspish message accusing him of being fake Bruce hadn’t been sure how to proceed. He knew he was walking a careful line and while the original tactic had been to be casual, that message made him question it. Jason was sensitive, whatever he might claim, and if he felt that Bruce wasn’t being honest, or _worse,_ pretending there was no bad blood between them, Bruce wasn’t surprised he had reacted poorly. 

He’d made a gamble with the phone call, breath short as he’d dialed. But he didn’t want to let what little ground he’d gained slip away. If it was the time for Jason to get upset and vent Bruce would let him. He knew it was coming. And though he hadn’t wanted to have any of their more serious conversations from afar, he would if it came down to it. 

He’d talked to his therapist about it extensively. He had just been hoping they’d have sturdier ground to stand on before the earthquake it would be. 

But Jason hadn’t answered, and had backtracked minutes later. Bruce wasn’t stupid. He knew Jason was lying when he said it was _fine._ But he couldn’t push. That was another thing he’d been advised against.

________

_“You need to let him set the tone. If he wants to talk about the big issues, then you need to talk about them. If he’s not ready, then you wait, as long as he needs. Be available, be attentive, be gentle. If you want to open a conversation, then you do it carefully.”_

________

Bruce had been trying. But perhaps he had misstepped somewhere. He had no way of knowing, and he might be spiraling a little over it. Bruce had been incredibly lucky in his efforts so far, with every one of them. He couldn’t help but think it was too much to ask that the same be true for Jason.

He shook the thought when Damian grumpily yanked on his sleeve and gave him a disgruntled look.

“I need to use the bathroom Father, it is the fourth time I’ve said it.”

“Sorry, Damian.” Bruce slowed and stood outside the restroom while Damian ducked in, holding his carryon bag for him. He needed to stop thinking about it, get it out of his mind and be more present for Dick and their breakfast. 

He slipped his phone out of his pocket again while he waited on Damian and realized he hadn’t taken it off airplane mode yet. He felt sluggish as he swiped the setting back off and waited for any notifications. Damian came back out of the bathroom with a disgusted look on his face and quickly distracted him as they continued on to baggage claim.

“The sanitation in public restrooms in America is abhorrent. I will have to burn these shoes when we get home.” 

Bruce nodded along, feeling absently amused as he watched a little notification pop up for a text from Dick and a missed call plus voicemail. Bruce blinked at them, thinking it would be odd for Dick to leave him a voice-message.

He opened the notification and nearly tripped when he read Jason’s name in bright red font. He swallowed when he looked at Damian who was still chattering, complaining about something.

“I will just say I am looking forward to sleeping in a civilized household again. I am sure that Titus will also be pleased to see us home.”

Bruce waited, though he wanted to listen to the message immediately. Instead he responded to Dick’s text that he was already at their carousel waiting for their bags and tried to continue paying attention to what Damian was saying until they met up with him.

Dick grinned as soon as he saw them and Damian stiffened, preparing for the inevitably crushing hug he wouldn’t be able to escape. He suffered through it admirably before kneeing Dick in the stomach when he refused to put him down. Dick wheezed and laughed it off before coming to hug Bruce.

He asked him, under his breath when he pulled him in, “what’s wrong?”

Bruce blinked at the luggage carousel as he wrapped his arms around his oldest. He thought he had a better poker face than that.

But it was Dick. He should know better.

Damian had quickly wandered off toward the carousel, searching for his bag and hoping to avoid being manhandled again.

“I...missed a call,” Bruce said as they drew back apart.

Dick gave him an amused look. “Oh, stressful.”

“From Jason.” 

He looked shocked for all of a second before it smoothed out into something forcedly neutral.

“Oh...were you...expecting one?” 

Something about Dick’s voice sparked even more concern in Bruce and he wasn’t sure why.

“Not really...he left a message.” Dick looked even more surprised and then they both looked down at his phone as he slipped it out of his pocket again.

“Were you going to...” Dick glanced between him and the phone and Bruce slowly nodded.

“I should.” He looked back up toward Damian and Dick followed his gaze.

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” Dick said, shoving his hands in his coat pockets. “You should listen to it. Who knows what it is, but you’ll drive yourself crazy if you don’t, and if you show up to his place later without having heard it who knows how _that_ will go, either.” 

Bruce nodded in agreement and Dick stared at him for a moment before he gave a curt nod back and began to turn away. Then abruptly he stopped, eyes darting to Bruce, mouth a thin, worried line.

“Bruce. Just don’t...whatever he says...don’t take it too personally, if he’s upset.” Bruce frowned, clutching his phone tight, wondering what he was missing and wanting badly to ask but Dick had already turned back to Damian and quickly stepped out of earshot in the noisy, crowded area. Bruce took a deep breath. Later. 

He stepped off to the side, standing next to a bank of seats out of the way of foot traffic. He tapped on the message and put his phone to his ear.

At first it was difficult to hear. Just muffled breathing, and then Jason’s voice.

 _“Bruce. I’m-...”_ His voice was soft and possibly a little slurred. Bruce swallowed, waiting.

There was more heavy breathing, like he’d just exerted himself somehow. There was a muffled groan and Bruce stiffened. _“I’m still mad at you.”_ The words were louder, more strained and there was a crack in his voice that shot through Bruce like a bullet. Had he been drinking? He hadn’t looked at when the message was left, how long ago had it been?

_“I don’t know- I don’t know what you think you’re doing.”_

There was rustling in the background and Bruce strained his ears, plugging his uncovered one to block out the ambient sounds of the airport around him, trying with all his might to hear every possible detail.

 _“But I-uh...your pictures were nice.”_ He sounded...sad, was all that Bruce could think and his stomach felt sour and like there was no gravity suddenly, turning in repeated somersaults the longer the message went on. _“That sunrise was nice.”_

Bruce felt frozen to the floor as he listened to his labored breathing. There was more rustling and then the distinctive noise of a dog, whining near the phone’s audio intake. Jason hissed, and Bruce knew that sound, it meant he was in pain, _significant_ pain. Bruce’s eyes bore into the tile floor flecked with glitter in the baggage claim as the rest of the room dissolved around him.

 _“I fucked up.”_ He sounded like he was crying and Bruce stopped breathing. _“Shit Bruce. I-“_ His voice choked off and then there was a clatter, loud enough it made Bruce flinch back from the phone before he pressed it even harder to his ear. From far away he could hear another groan and then a noise that sounded distinctly like retching followed by more whining and barking. Bruce absently recognized it as Titus.

That was all there was.

No more words, he couldn’t hear Jason breathing on the other line, just frantic barking and a high whine that went unresponded to. Bruce couldn’t breathe, and when he looked up Dick was staring at him with wide, anxious eyes from across the room.

The message cut off and Bruce took a single jolting step forward before he had to force himself to step into the role of Batman. He was in public, just outside of Gotham proper, it was a bigger risk than he would ever normally take but there was no other choice if he was going to move.

He took long strides to meet them and spoke in a rushed, clipped voice.

“We need to go. Now.” He pocketed his phone and turned away before either boy could respond. 

“But our bags-” Bruce heard Damian behind him before Dick quickly cut him off.

“We’ll deal with it later, Little D.” A moment later Bruce felt Dick grab the sleeve of his coat as they reached the doors to the outside. “Bruce, where are you going? You don’t even know where the car is.” 

He stopped, breath stuttering, and turned to him.

“Then take me, damnit.” 

Dick blinked, an acute anxiety coming over his expression before he clenched his jaw and gave a curt nod.“This way.” He broke into a jog and Bruce followed, taking a split second to make sure Damian was still with them as they ran through the terminal towards the sky bridge out to the parking garage.

“I demand to know what is going on.”

“Later, D.”

“No, _now.”_ Damian’s voice was laced with tension and Dick heaved a heavy breath as they rounded the end of a parking lane where Bruce recognized Dick’s car.

“Keys.”

“Bruce, I don’t-”

_“Keys Dick. Now.”_

“God, alright,” Dick growled and tore them out of his pocket, tossing them mid run. Bruce ripped the driver’s side door open and barely waited for both Dick and Damian to get in before he was pulling out and heading for the exit. It took an insane amount of self control not to speed down the spiraling ramp that led to street level.

“Dick, try to call Jason.”

“Ok,” he replied quickly, digging his phone out of his jean’s pocket. “What should I say if he answers?” He held the phone up to his ear and looked at Bruce with open worry.

“Just tell me if he does.” Bruce was gripping the wheel too tight. To the point that it hurt the skin around his knuckles. They reached the bottom of the ramp and shot out toward the pay booths, the last barrier before hitting actual street. There was slushy snow accumulated at the edges of all the barriers surrounding the area and an inch or so of standing water that turned to nothing but spray as they shot through it. 

“What is going _on_ Father? What is wrong with Todd?” Damian leaned forward, shoulders shoved between the two front seats as he leveled a glare straight at the side of Bruce’s face. 

“I don’t know,” Bruce finally bit out as he pushed the car dangerously close to the vehicle in front of them in order to duck under the barrier arm that was lowering between their cars. Someone yelled at them from inside the booth and Dick gaped at him.

“Bruce, they can label you a security risk for shit like that.” Dick was turned around in his seat, staring back at the payment office while Bruce smoothly sped through the grouping traffic to get back onto the main road. 

“I’m aware.” Their rear tires slipped just a fraction on the icy pavement and Bruce was forced to drop back a couple miles an hour to maintain traction in the weather. 

Dick looked back at him, letting his phone drop away from his face for a moment. “Shit,” he breathed. “Ok, what the hell did he say in that message?”

“What message?” Damian demanded, still hanging his front half between their seats. 

Something about getting on the freeway, where the roads were clear of any ice, and being able to drive at the speed his heart was pounding allowed him to settle. He was able to concentrate and center himself enough in the action of it that he could breathe around the stone lodged in his throat. 

“Jason called during our flight. Something is wrong. I don’t know what.”

“Bruce.” Dick had the phone pressed to his ear still, or again, Bruce wasn’t sure. “He’s not picking up, it’s my fifth call but he’s been ignoring me for months I don’t know-”

“Damian, call him.”

“Yes father.” He quickly slid back into his seat. 

Bruce was going to have to take him to the side and talk to him after this. He knew it wasn’t anything beyond his actions as Batman might extend but he tried to keep Batman out of his civilian life, even with his kids.

Almost especially with his kids.

“Should we call Alfred? Or Tim? Would they be able to get there faster?” Dick asked, fiddling nervously with his seatbelt.

“No, it will be faster to go in through Burnside than Bristol and with this weather it’s better to keep to the freeway as far as possible.”

“Right.” Dick gave a sharp nod and stared out the windshield with a clenched jaw. There was a small pocket of silence only broken by the gunning engine as Bruce weaved through traffic and the carhorns blaring after them.

“Bruce what did he say, exactly?” Dick finally interjected, the anxiety clear in his tone. Bruce took a breath and dug his cell out of his pocket, handing it to him. Dick took it without question and Bruce glanced at Damian in the back seat, head bent and eyebrows drawn together with his phone pressed to his ear.

“Anything Damian?”

“No, Father.” 

Bruce held back the growl that wanted to escape and took a deep, measured breath. They had been through things like this before. There were close calls all the time. For all Bruce knew Jason could have gotten drunk and been throwing up from the alcohol and was now sleeping off a hangover. 

Not great, Bruce hated to think why he felt the need to drink so much, but not life threatening.

Unless he had alcohol poisoning or- Bruce shook his head as he gunned it to slip in front of a semi truck and winced at the airhorn that went off as they sped away.

“Bruce,” Dick sounded desperate and Bruce looked at him for the split second he could afford to take his eyes off the road. He was pale and thin lipped, with Bruce’s cell pressed to his ear. “Was he throwing up?”

“That’s what it sounded like.” He put his blinker on as he shot across four lanes of traffic and Damian grunted in the back seat as they narrowly avoided a Fiat.

“B.”

“What Dick?”

“I uh.” He swallowed harshly, gripping the handle at the ceiling and setting Bruce’s phone down in the cup holder. “I talked to Jay a few days ago, and-” he cut off, letting out a shaky breath. Bruce opened his mouth but Damian cut in from the back.

“You upset him.”

“What?” Both Bruce and Dick asked at the same time.

“You told us all that you said something stupid and you needed to apologize. Did you?” Bruce was thrown, both by Damian’s accusatory tone and because he had no idea what he was referring to.

“I-” Bruce took a hard turn at the bottom of the freeway exit and thanked every deity he could think of that the roads were plowed and salted here. Damian grabbed the handle above his door to stay in place, fumbling his phone and dropping it to the floor. Dick knocked his head against the window and grimaced as they straightened out and shot across Dini bridge toward Old Gotham. “I tried to.” He rubbed the side of his head where it had hit the glass. “Tim and Stephanie talked to him, he wouldn’t - he didn’t want to talk to me. But they said he seemed ok.”

“Dick what did you say?” Bruce asked, incredulous.

“I-” he pulled a hand through his hair, tugging harshly at the roots. “I don’t want to say.” He looked sick to his stomach and Bruce clenched his jaw. He knew the two of them fought at times, just like all of the rest of them but the current situation what it was he found it difficult to keep a level head. Even while passing three cars on the wrong side of the road. 

“What was it Dick?” He snapped. They all said things they didn’t mean, sometimes just to spite each other. Bruce was working on it and while not a common weakness of Dick’s Jason could be a particularly rough patch and if it had anything to do with why he may have suddenly spiraled into a drinking bought Bruce needed to know. 

“I can’t tell you, alright?”

“No, not alright. Why not?” It was a struggle to keep his voice even.

“Because it was a mistake, for one. I didn’t- realize how it sounded until it came out of my mouth and two, he wouldn’t want me to tell you ok? And there’s- it would require way too much explanation. So just- can we just get to his apartment and make sure he’s not _dead?”_

Bruce swallowed against the nausea rising in his throat.

“Do we even know for sure that he’s _at_ his apartment?” Damian cut in, “Would it not make more sense for something to have happened during a patrol? And why would you think he was _dead?_ What was in that message?” He sounded furious, but Bruce knew it was his reflexive reaction to fear. 

“He’s not dead,” Bruce bit out, not acknowledging the shiver that ran up his spine. “Titus was with him, he wasn’t on patrol. Most logical conclusion is he’s at his apartment.”

They were almost there. Bruce was sure the police had been called on him at least three times already when he took the Wagner street bridge into Somerset. He would have to call his lawyers later, make up a story.

“Dick, just tell me if it has anything to do with why Jason might have been drinking.” 

Dick pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Maybe? I don’t know, ok. I didn’t meant to- they said he was ok. Tim and Stephanie said he seemed ok. Just tired.”

The genuine distress in his voice made Bruce’s frustration fade just a little but only ratcheted up his concern.

“Why do you think he had been drinking?” Damian asked, “that would be idiotic, he is supposed to be watching Titus which he cannot do if he is inebriated.”

“Dames.” Dick closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the headrest, sounding exhausted and overwhelmed.

“We don’t know anything yet,” Bruce tried to reassure. He knew his own anxiety was magnifying Dick and Damian’s but Bruce couldn’t shake an overpowering feeling that something was deeply wrong. Every twinge of concern over the past few days suddenly felt completely valid.

He was immediately sure he should have asked Alfred to check on him. He should have called more than once before they left for the airport. He should have asked Tim why they’d met up with Jason when Damian showed him the picture, even if he knew the answer would have been a lie.

Bruce had worried about Jason always, but especially since they had their last falling out. Jason worked on his own mostly, he didn’t have anyone to rely on.

At least Bruce was sure he felt that way. That he didn’t want to rely on their family and would resist it with every fiber of his being.

Even Roy and Kori had left to accomplish other things. 

Bruce _hated_ it. Even if he didn’t exactly approve of the Outlaws missions most of the time, the two of them looked out for Jason and it meant, at the very least, that if Bruce couldn’t someone was. Being able to have him on comms some of the time had been an improvement but there were so many things that could go wrong at any time. He wouldn’t put it past Jason to hide injuries, to pretend he was fine when he wasn’t, and Bruce just...

It hurt, to think of him struggling on his own with no one he felt he could go to. Bruce was trying. He was _trying_ but it felt like not enough. Like never enough. It was so hard to strike a balance. He didn’t want to overstep with Jason. He knew it would do more damage than just about anything else, but what he _was_ doing felt like so little. Especially now. 

He took a breath and swallowed every overwhelming thought as they turned behind Jason’s building and parked in front of the back stairs, blocking the alley. “Dick, call Barbara and have her disable whatever security measures he has in place, we may need to break in.”

Dick nodded as they all sprung out of the car, phone to his ear before he even shut his door. 

Bruce’s eyes scanned the stairwell as they went as if there might be a trail of blood or some sign of what had happened, but it looked plain, average as any other day. He didn’t hesitate to knock loudly when they reached his door, peeling gray paint fluttering off with each impact. 

Immediately there was barking from the back of the apartment, quickly gaining volume as Titus ran to the door. Bruce waited for all of five seconds before Damian grabbed his arm.

“Father.” His voice was tense. “Titus does not bark like that for no reason.”

Bruce gave a nod and looked at Dick, phone still pressed to his ear.

“Two seconds,” he said, holding up a hand. Bruce clenched his fists, listening for anything through the door. But there was nothing but the same frantic barking that had been in Jason’s message.

Damian shouted through the door, “Titus, Back!”

“Ok she says go.” Dick shoved his phone into his pocket and Bruce grabbed the door knob and twisted as hard as he could, snapping the lock in one go. The deadbolt would be a different story and he backed up, raised his right leg and kicked the door hard enough to rattle his bones. It took one more blow for the door itself to bust around the lock, swinging open and slamming the knob into the opposing wall. Titus was standing back from the door, ears down, barking and whining. As soon as he saw Damian he ran to him.

Bruce and Dick both stepped around him through the door and were immediately met with a horrible smell. Titus had relieved himself on the kitchen floor and before Bruce could even call Jason’s name the dog was again rushing passed them back into the apartment, barking all the way.

Bruce reached the living room in four strides. His heart shot into his throat as soon as he saw beyond the couch.

 _“Shit,_ Jason!” Dick’s voice sounded distant behind him as Bruce fell to his knees in front of his second son where he was laying on his side, wrapped half in a blanket and loose pajamas, puddle of sick on the carpet and down his chin, completely unconscious.

He was pale with dark purple smudges under his eyes and a bright sheen of sweat over his skin. Titus barked again and Bruce flinched. 

“What is wrong with him?” Damian asked, toneless and frozen in place just beyond the edge of the rug.

Bruce pressed his hand to Jason’s pulse point and found a thready, speeding beat. Beyond that, he was burning up. Bruce moved his palm to his forehead and hissed through his teeth.

“He has a fever, it’s _high._ Dick.” 

“What, what should we do?” He was kneeling next to Bruce in an instant, shoving the coffee table clear out of the way. His hands hovered over Jason, mouth slanted and brows tight together.

“Help me get him-” Titus barked, loud and echoing in the small space and shoved over Bruce’s hands, nosing at Jason’s face with a whine.

“Damian-” 

He was already there and hooking a finger under his collar. “Titus, back.”

“Take him outside please.”

“But-” his voice was tight with distress and that was half the reason it was necessary. It would get the dog outside so he wouldn’t get in the way, but it would also give Damian a task to keep him occupied so he didn’t have to see whatever this was.

“Please Damian, take him on a walk. Just calm him down.” Bruce could sense the argument on his son’s tongue by the taught line of his shoulders but he subsided just as quickly.

“Alright,” he clipped back, pulling a reluctant Titus toward the door.

“Take your phone with you.”

“Yes,” Damian dismissed, already grabbing the head sleeve from where it hung with the leash on the coat rack by the door.

Titus, though, had done one good thing because when Bruce looked down again Jason’s eyes were slitted open.

“Jason?” Bruce leaned over him, cupping his cheek and giving it a gentle pat. “Jay can you hear me?”

His eyes stuttered over the room before coming to rest on Bruce’s face and staying there. Bruce was holding his breath. “Jay, answer me.”

He blinked, eyes glassy and non comprehending, but he made a noise somewhere in the back of his throat. No recognizable words but it was something. It was better than unconscious was all Bruce could tell himself.

“We need to move him.” Bruce looked back at Dick.

“Get him into the tub? Cool him down?” Dick moved to Jason’s feet and was already untangling his legs from the blanket. Bruce gave a tight nod, unable to speak. His temperature was alarming, high enough to make Bruce worry about brain damage and seizures. How long had it been this high? Since he had called hours before?

“Do you think he’s just sick? Just really, really sick? Or what if he was poisoned? Should I see if-” While Dick was talking Bruce pulled the blanket away from Jason’s shoulders where it was tangled around his arms and found a bandage wrapped around his left forearm. The skin peeking out around it was veiny and red. Bruce swallowed, gingerly unwrapping it with a mounting dread. Jason let out a feint, pained noise and gave the slightest twitch.

The first thing that hit him when the bandage came off, again, was the smell. The unmistakable stench of infection that permeated a swollen, black and blue section of skin all the way around his arm. Little white crystals fell away from the wrappings as he unwound them and stuck to his skin in equal measure, leaving little, raised bumps in their wake. Salt, Bruce absently registered, a last ditch effort to kill an infection that hadn’t gone away like planned.

Dick gasped mid sentence when he held up his arm.

“What the hell happened?”

“Come on, let’s move him, he’s in sepsis.” Without having to say anything else Dick got into position, pushing Jason’s legs apart so he could squat between them and hook an elbow under each knee. Meanwhile Bruce propped him up and tried not to throw up at the way he was near boneless while wrapping his own arms around his chest just under the armpits. 

They lifted in one swift movement, though it was still awkward. It always would be with someone of Jason’s size and stature. Even with both of them Jason was heavy. It was hard to forget how big he was now and Bruce was thankful for it in that moment. Thankful that it didn’t feel anything like holding him as a child after-

He sucked in a noisey breath as they gracelessly folded into his bathroom.

“Set him down on the toilet,” Bruce instructed, “get the water to a comfortable temperature. Then I need you to help us into the tub.” Dick was nodding as he helped prop Jason up against Bruce, so he wouldn’t slip to the floor.

Bruce knelt in front of the toilet, supporting Jason’s limp weight, his head and shoulders leaning against Bruce’s in a heavy slump. He made a noise again, something slightly louder but just as incomprehensible as before. Bruce felt his eyelashes blink against the side of his neck where Jason’s head was propped and he pressed two fingers to his pulse point, taking what little comfort he could in the manic beat of it while thinking about their next steps.

Dick held a hand under the spray of the shower, a look of concentration on his face until he finally nodded and turned back to them both. “Ok, let’s go. How do you wanna do this?”

“I’ll sit back to the base of the tub, he’ll sit in front of me so I can hold him up.”

Dick nodded again and they shuffled around each other, mimicking the same hold from earlier, his back to Bruce’s chest, arms wrapped under his armpits. It was more difficult in the cramped space but they managed to shift him to the tub.

Upon entering the water Jason became immediately more lively, uncoordinated limbs trying to pull away. He made a low noise of distress that had Dick hushing him like a little kid. The water was tepid but would feel like ice on Jason’s burning skin. Bruce carefully leaned his head back to rest against his shoulder so his face wasn’t getting too much overspray. He arranged himself around Jason, knowing the more physical contact they made the more insulated Jason would be and tried to leave space between them where he could. 

“Dick, call Alfred and tell him to get the cave ready. Tell him to prepare an IV antibiotic, whatever’s best for a flesh wound, then go get some clothes for Jason and me to put on after this and pack him an overnight bag. Whatever you think he’ll want.” 

Dick stood at the edge of the tub, hovering and seeping worry like a leaky pipe. “Right.” He hesitated only for a second, the concern in his eyes almost making them glow.

“I’ve got him Dick, he’s going to be fine,” Bruce said, knowing no such thing. 

“He better be,” was all he said before he pulled out his phone again and left the bathroom.

Then it was just Bruce and Jason, his delirious son propped against his chest, sitting in the tub with the shower running, soaking their clothes to try to get Jason’s temperature down. The very fact that he was at all conscious was a good sign even if he wasn’t lucid. It would give Bruce a good gauge for where his temperature sat as the lower it got the more clearheaded he should become.

“Jason?” He asked, lifting a hand to press to his forehead again. He could tell just from the way they were pressed together that Jason was still incredibly warm. His temperature likely hovered about 104 degrees Fahrenheit by Bruce’s estimation. He shifted in the tub but didn’t acknowledge his name. Jason gave a quiet moan and turned his head toward Bruce’s throat.

“Jay, can you hear me?” Very carefully he brushed the hair out of his son’s eyes. He was beginning to shake and for a moment Bruce’s heart stuttered at the thought that he could be going into convulsions but it never went beyond a harsh shiver. And that was good, it meant the water was working and his body was trying to raise his temperature back up in order to fight the infection. But the little noises of distress were painful to hear.

“B...” Jason spoke, words still unintelligible, but Bruce could tell he was trying for actual words.

“Yes Jay, what is it?”

“Bruce,” he slurred his name, high and a little breathy in what sounded like panic.

“I’m right here, I’m right here Jay.” He ran a hand through his hair again, sweeping it off his forehead so water didn’t run in his eyes. Jason struggled for a moment, his legs kicking out in an uncoordinated play for freedom, likely from some imagined horror. He let out a noise like a gasping sob and Bruce’s heart twisted in his chest. 

_“Bruce,”_ he said it again, breathless and desperate. Bruce had to swallow against his own tight and painful throat, barely managing to respond.

“I’m here.”

Jason flinched, like it was the first time he’d heard him.

_“Bruce.”_

“You’re alright, I’m right here, I’ve got you,” Bruce whispered it back, continuing the soothing motion through his hair.

“Bruce.” His teeth were chattering and Bruce put his palm flat on his forehead, gauging his temperature again. It might have been a little lower, but not as much as he would’ve liked. 

“I’m here, I’m right here Jay.” He didn’t know what else to do or say, he just wanted Jason to _hear_ him. His breathing was ragged and wet, like he was crying and it was killing Bruce. Why hadn’t he told anyone about this? The wound on his arm couldn’t be fresh, not with the salt pack. You didn’t do that unless you were desperate. 

_“Hurts,”_ Jason gasped, a shiver wracking through his shoulders. Bruce shifted, gripping him a little tighter, trying to minimize his shaking and push down his own anxiety.

“I know, I’m sorry, you’re going to be alright. We’ve got to get your fever down.”

Jason mumbled something unintelligible back, shifting like he wanted to sit up but too weak to complete the motion. Bruce ran a gentle hand up the side of his right arm, trying to be soothing somehow. He was beginning to feel the chill himself of being soaked to the skin, even if the water was close to his body temperature. 

Absently, Bruce registered the sound of footsteps just before Dick ducked back into the bathroom. He dropped a duffle bag on the floor in front of the vanity and stared at them both with wide, anxious eyes.

“Alfred says the cave will be ready whenever we get there. Is he...is he doing ok?”

“He’ll be fine,” Bruce assured, hoping to convince himself just as much as Dick. “Once he’s more lucid we can go, I just need his temperature to come down before we move him.”

Dick swallowed audibly and nodded, turning his attention back to the vanity. He picked up an orange prescription bottle off the counter and glanced at the label. “He’s been on antibiotics, looks like.”

“Bring them. I want Alfred to look at them.”

“Got it.” Dick dropped them in the top of the bag at his feet and plucked a toothbrush and tube of toothpaste off the counter to follow. Then he left the room again with the bag, setting it somewhere by the door Bruce imagined, and going about the rest of his tasks.

“Bruce?” Jason spoke again, around chattering teeth, but there was actually a questioning lilt to it that time, instead of the blank desperation of before. He shifted his feet again and lifted his head from Bruce’s shoulder briefly before dropping it back down with a groan.

“I’ve got you. I’m right here.”

“‘s cold.” The words were still slurred but identifiable this time and Bruce felt his next breath come just a fraction more easily.

“I know, I’m sorry, your temperature is too high.” A particularly harsh shiver wracked Jason’s frame and Bruce did his best to minimize any jarring movement, holding him firmly in place. His breath hitched on another groan and Bruce dropped his head, leaning his cheek against Jason’s wet hair. “You have an infection Jay, a bad one.” Bruce let out a shuddering breath and closed his eyes. _“What were you thinking?”_

The words were whispered and Bruce could recognize the dampness in his voice. He swallowed against it, clearing his throat in vain. He’d maintained control up to this point, a practiced compartmentalizing that was trying violently, in that moment, to collapse.

“S-s-sorry,” Jason stuttered back in a small, pained voice and Bruce lifted his head, continuing to card his fingers through Jason’s hair in an almost self soothing motion.

“Sshh.” Bruce didn’t know why he hushed him, just that there were no words he could form in return. He craned his neck, trying to get a glimpse of Jason’s face. He found him staring up at the ceiling, eyes bright and a little glazed but blinking slowly into awareness.

“We’re, m-...m’ shower?”

Bruce nodded to himself, relief very slowly inching its way down his spine with every lucid word. “We’re in your shower. You have a very high fever Jay, I’m trying to bring your temperature down.”

Jason made an affirmative sort of noise and shifted restlessly in the tub, right elbow knocking into the porcelain when he tried to push himself up.

“Not yet, Jay.” Bruce very carefully held him in place, one hand pressed flat to his chest. Jason let out a huffed breath like he was disappointed but didn’t try the move again.

“Bite,” he said a moment later.

“What was that, Jason?” Bruce shifted, letting one of his legs slide flat in the tub, the discomfort of his clothing clinging to his skin combined with the chill was beginning to chafe.

“Bite, d-dog bite.”

He was momentarily confused before glancing back to the wound on Jason’s left arm, sitting exposed and garish in the bright light of the bathroom. “Your arm.”

Bruce moved the hand still carding through Jason’s hair and carefully gripped the injured arm right at the elbow, lifting it to be more in Jason’s line of sight where his head was still tilted toward the ceiling. Jason stared at it for a moment, breathing loudly, even over the sound of the shower. 

“Bandage?” He finally asked, still not making complete sentences, but he was apparently following the conversation, which was a good sign.

“I removed it. You likely have a chemical burn from the salt.” Bruce lowered the arm back down, carefully, but Jason still flinched when it settled back against his stomach and let out a pained noise that shot Bruce’s pulse to the ceiling.

 _“Sorry.”_ He quickly began brushing Jason’s hair back again. “Do you know what day it is?”

It took him a moment to respond and Bruce nearly jostled him for the answer, anxiety growing with every silent second.

“Day you g-get back.”

“The day of the week, Jay.”

He took a labored breath but replied readily enough, “S-Sunday.”

“Good.”

“Titus,” Jason suddenly said, the word snapping out much more clearly than any previous. He moved again, pushing against Bruce’s restraining hand.

“What about him, Jay?” Bruce moved his arm to span across the front of Jason’s shoulders, not letting him up.

“He needs, _Titus,_ he-” The words sounded so honestly upset that Bruce frowned. “Been too long, needs to- to go out.”

Bruce closed his eyes, a swirl of affection and sympathy twisting in his chest. “It’s alright, Damian’s taking care of him, it’s ok.”

Jason stopped struggling then, groaning when a hard shiver wracked through him once again. “You’re ok, you’re alright,” Bruce said it like a mantra, unsure who he was trying to convince, Jason or himself.

“‘m tired,” Jason mumbled, sounding just as exhausted as the deep purple smudges below his eyes would suggest. 

“I know, just stay awake a little longer and you can sleep. Dick is getting you some dry clothes.” 

He nodded slowly in response, the back of his head scraping above Bruce’s collar bone in a way that, absurdly, reminded him of holding Jason as a boy when he was sick. They used to set up in the den, Jason propped up against him and bundled in a blanket, alternating between complaining dramatically and not saying a word when he was truly feeling ill. A lump rose in his throat at the thought, a twisting mess of emotions making him feel almost sick to his stomach. Finding Jason on the floor like they had-

Bruce pressed his mouth roughly to the crown of his head. _“Don’t ever scare me like that again,”_ he whispered, barely able to push the words out through his painfully tight throat. He had to blink away sudden dampness in his eyes and take a deep breath.

There was a pause and then a very quiet whisper of, “sorry.”

Something about the flat tone put Bruce on edge, but before he could formulate a reply Dick came shuffling back into the room, a pile of clothes stacked in his arms. He looked extremely concerned, eyes snapping back and forth between the both of them.

“How is he?”

Bruce continued brushing his hair back, beginning to shiver himself. “Lucid, but fading fast. He’s exhausted.”

Dick nodded, looking at Jason with his eyebrows pinched tight together. “I got everything you asked for, plus Titus’ things and I already loaded them in the trunk of the car and texted Damian. He said Titus is good, they’re just looping the block until we’re ready to go.”

“Alright. Thank you, Dick. You can set those things on the counter, I think his temperature is low enough to move him. Help me get him up?” Dick nodded eagerly, setting the clothes to the side and leaning over with his hands on the edge of the tub. He was still looking at Jason with sharp edged concern. 

Bruce nudged him, gently shifting them both forward.

“Alright, we’re gonna get you up and into some dry clothes, ok Jay?” Dick spoke directly to Jason for the first time and Bruce watched the interaction carefully for any sign of what had apparently gone on between them. Jason didn’t reject the help, or even grumble at Dick’s fussing. Though, if Bruce was right, he was avoiding his eyes the whole time. 

Of course Jason was still so weak and tired from the infection and who knew what else. It was highly probable that what appeared like a normal interaction, or what passed as normal in this particular situation, would turn sour again as soon as Jason was back to himself. Bruce had no doubt the same would be true of Jason toward _him._ The earlier voice-message was proof enough that this amiable and relatively pliant version of his son was very temporary. 

Bruce knew it wouldn’t be easy from here. Jason would likely want to leave the manor as soon as his fever was gone, regardless of anything else. He would probably fight them every step of the way when he was better. But Bruce was prepared for that. It wasn’t as if he expected some sort of miracle, and he didn’t want one. He had no desire for Jason to brush the things between them under the rug, like he apparently thought Bruce was doing. He knew everything wasn’t alright, he knew there were some very difficult conversations on the way. 

But he wasn’t above taking advantage of the current circumstance to get Jason the help he needed. And he wasn’t above holding him and wanting to believe that at the very least, maybe this would open communication. Maybe everything he’d done so far at the advice of his therapist would pay off and they would be able to make this work. Maybe Jason would tell them why he let himself get so sick without asking for help.

The question was burrowing deeper and deeper into Bruce’s chest and not having an answer was killing him. 

As quickly as possible Bruce scrubbed down with a towel and changed into a set of Jason’s sweats, marveling at the fact that they actually fit. Then he helped Dick carefully slip a t-shirt on Jason after they had already managed bottoms. He was sluggish and shivering still but responsive, if a little slow to answer. 

Bruce dug through Jason’s medicine cabinet for some Tylenol to hopefully keep his temperature from rising back up and a glass of water. When he came back into the bathroom Jason was slumped on the toilet lid with his eyes closed while Dick crouched in front of him, talking about nothing while eyeing the still uncovered wound on his arm.

“Jaylad,” Bruce said, the old name slipping out before he managed to stop himself. He braced for some sort of negative response but Jason just blinked his eyes open and raised a hand for the glass and two pills. He swallowed without trouble, paused, and then downed the entire glass in a few large gulps. That was good, Bruce thought, he would have asked him to finish it anyway, though the quick consumption wasn’t great for the nausea he was probably already suppressing. 

“Should we bandage it again?” Dick asked him.

“Yes. Just for the drive over. Alfred will want to look at it and probably need to debride the tissue.” Dick nodded, going for the bathroom mirror where a neat half roll of bandages still sat, a pair of medical scissors and tape lined up next to them. Bruce watched carefully as Dick wrapped the wound. Jason just stared the entire time, still out of it enough he was barely keeping his eyes open. Bruce grabbed a washcloth, ran it under cool water and handed it to Dick to bring down to the car with them.

Getting Jason down the stairs was another feat in itself. Bruce, unwilling to delay getting him back to the cave, simply hefted him into his arms in a bridal carry, leaning back so his full weight was centered over Bruce’s hips. He was heavy, and without Dick’s help it was murder on his already tight joints from flying. But there wasn’t room and it would be more dangerous for the two of them to manhandle him down the stairs so Bruce did it himself. Jason didn’t protest, again, and Bruce rushed all the more, going as quickly as he could without jarring him too much. It couldn’t be a good sign. In his right mind Jason would never allow it, he would drag himself down the stairs by his own power if it killed him.

Bruce shook the thought away.

Damian was waiting by the car when they made it down, Titus sitting calmly at his side. He looked alarmed at the sight of Jason sitting mostly limp in Bruce’s hold but quickly helped open the back door of the car. “Two people attempted to leave in this direction while I was here, I moved the car for them.” Bruce made eye contact with him briefly and suppressed a sigh.

“Later.”

Dick crawled in from the other side and helped duck Jason’s head forward so he didn’t hit it when Bruce lowered him into the back seat.

For his part, Jason tried to do it himself but Bruce still had to lift his feet enough to get him completely inside. He stood there for a moment, hesitating as Dick gently tugged Jason’s shoulder and helped him lower onto his right side, half curled up and laying across the seat with his head on Dick’s thigh. Dick settled the wet washcloth on his forehead and Jason closed his eyes. He was breathing hard, like it took an immense amount of effort and Bruce felt his lungs squeeze tight in concern before he forced himself to shut the door and climb behind the wheel.

Damian had moved to the front passenger seat, chair pushed all the way back with Titus sitting on the floor, head reaching above the dash still. It was cramped and Titus was whining, stretching over Damian’s lap and shoving his head between the front seat-backs. Damian was hushing him but was likewise turned around in his seat looking at both Dick and Jason.

Bruce started the car and just as he began to pull out of the alley Titus pushed himself up, front paws on Damian’s seat, and began to shove his way into the back.

“Titus!” Damian attempted to grab at his collar but it was already out of reach as the huge animal fumbled to the floor in the back of the car. Bruce stopped short at the mouth of the alley, turning himself to try to drag the dog back and away from Jason but Titus was already folded awkwardly down in front of the back seat, laying his head on the leather at Jason’s elbow and licking at the exposed skin.

 _“Hey, hey, hey,”_ Dick tried to shoo him away but Jason grunted.

“No, ‘s fine. He’s ok.” He lifted his injured arm, elbow resting on the leather cushion, and settled his hand on the top of Titus’ head. The dog squirmed closer, until his nose was just bumping Dick’s leg. Jason carefully scratched behind his ears and closed his eyes again, leaving his hand to rest there.

Bruce swallowed and glanced up at Dick who was running a hand over Jason’s upper arm and had glaringly obvious tears in his eyes. His gaze flicked up to Bruce’s just before he scrubbed a hand over his face. 

“Father.” Bruce almost flinched at his youngest son’s voice he was so absorbed in the scene. When he looked Damian was pale, his mouth a thin, straight line and his eyes hard. “Should we not be leaving?”

Bruce turned fully back around, hands gripping the steering wheel as he finally pulled out of the alley. He drove just as quickly home as he had on their way to Jason’s apartment. It was only his extensive skill and training that got them safely back to the manor because Bruce had never been so distracted. He couldn’t keep his eyes from straying to the rear view mirror, tracking Jason’s breathing in the shallow movement of his chest. Couldn’t stop imagining him calling Bruce, half delirious with pain and fever.

Couldn’t stop wondering what all everyone had missed while they were gone. How had he been hurt? Why hadn’t he told anyone? Bruce knew Jason was still wary of him, of all of them. But the texts, and agreeing to take Titus...he’d thought things were improving. But here was all the evidence. Jason didn’t ask any of them for help. Maybe he felt like he couldn’t, or he simply didn’t want to. 

There was even more to it than that though...more to it than Jason’s complicated relationship with all of them. Jason hadn’t gotten help from anyone. Not Alfred, not Dr. Thompkins, he hadn’t even taken himself to a hospital.

Something was very wrong. Something bad enough it had left Jason alone, desperately fighting an infection and losing. He nearly- nearly let himself-

Bruce shook his head as they rounded the drive to the manor. He couldn’t think it. It wasn’t- but how would Bruce know? He had been out of Jason’s life for months outside of vigilante work. There could be more going on than he could imagine. 

What if the surprising amiability was just some sort of...farewell? Bruce felt sick, abruptly like he might throw up and his hands clenched on the wheel.

“I’ll talk to him,” came Dick’s voice from the back seat. Bruce glanced in the rear view mirror to find him staring back into it. One hand was pressed to the damp cloth on Jason’s forehead, the other clenched tightly in a fist and resting on his other leg. His face was hard, even with his red rimmed eyes, like he was ready for a fight.

Immediately something protectively possessive flared up in Bruce’s chest and he had to avert his gaze before he snapped something stupid back. Dick thought, Bruce was sure, that he wouldn’t be able to handle whatever conversation stemmed from this. And maybe he was right. Bruce was working on all of it, on...all the things he needed to resolve in himself and with Jason but what was this? It was something different. Not unrelated though, he was sure. There was a bitter twist in his stomach at the reminder of all of his faults.

He had contributed to this. He knew he had.

Perhaps it _would_ be better if it wasn’t him that spoke to Jason. At least initially.

“We’ll talk about it later,” Bruce finally murmured, voice barely above a whisper as they pulled into the secret entrance to the cave.

His heart pounded so hard in his chest it made it hard to breathe, each inhale and exhale came sharp and jerky. There was no way he would lose his son again. Not to an injury, or a sickness, not to any villain or the fucking apocalypse but especially not to something like this. Whatever it was. He was done losing his kids.

He would do whatever it took, even if that meant deferring to someone else. He would not let Jason slip through his fingers again.

Never again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: Basically all very similar to last chapter, but from an outside perspective. Extreme illness, severe infection, mention of vomiting, references to death, what appears to be vaguely suicidal behavior. Perhaps I should also warn for extremely dangerous driving.
> 
> _________________
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this little jaunt into Bruce’s head....for reference, Bruce mentions his therapist in this chapter, and if you haven’t read the first couple installments in this series, it’s covered fully in those.
> 
> You’ll notice I also made a few allusions to Damian having some struggles. I have...plans. But they are a ways out. 
> 
> Next chapter we are back to Jason’s POV and it’s looking like a long one as well....I hope you’ll leave a comment if you liked ;) 
> 
> Chapter Title from Precious by Depeche Mode
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](https://batbirdies.tumblr.com) if you like. I might start posting little snippets here and there of upcoming chapters. I also have plans to continue this story once this installment is complete...but I’m in the beginning stages of planning so I might be discussing it a bit there.


	12. Pulled against the grain, I feel a little pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason was back in the manor, and...not very happy about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early chapter again I guess??? I’ve been bored. Life is stressful, I write to cope lol.
> 
> Also ALSO LOOK AT [THIS](https://batbirdies.tumblr.com/post/612818438076989440/dysplasia-girl-when-i-m-bored-i-make-fan-art-of)

It was a clear night, the moon was high and the stars shone bright enough to see by. Jason was out on the manor grounds. It was cold, freezing really. Snow packed hard over the grass, enough that Jason had to be careful and watch his footing so he didn’t slip and brain himself on a rock hidden in this “white wonderland.”

He didn’t remember why he was out. What he was doing outside in the snow in the middle of the night. Only that he was going somewhere. That he had a destination in mind.

It was freezing and the wind whipped through his clothes like they were nothing. But he trudged on.

He saw them in the distance, the whole reason he came out here.

There were two matching headstones coming into view out in the middle of open land, overlooking a shining white expanse. He trudged up to them, feet dragging through deep snow, hearing his own puffing breaths through the cold, ice crystals floating through the air. It was almost bright, with the reflection of the moon off the snow. The names on the graves were clearly visible as he approached. 

Jason knew he’d done this before, but his mind was foggy on why, or when. He didn’t know what he was doing here, only that he was pressed to go. Coming to a stop in front of them he looked on, staring at the graves of Thomas and Martha Wayne. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out.

It was so cold he was shaking and shivering in his boots, but there was a reason he was there, he just couldn’t remember it.

Bruce had asked him once, if he had ever visited his mother’s grave. If he’d wanted to. Jason hadn’t even known where it was back then, but Bruce had offered to take him. It was public record, apparently. 

Jason had gone, but found he didn’t know what to say, and he’d wondered, idly, if when he died this was what other people would do. Come stand in front of his grave, empty headed and silent, if there would even be people to visit it. He thought he wouldn’t mind though, if they didn’t have anything to say. The company would still be nice.

And so he sat there in the grass, picking dandelions and daisies.

Now he looked up at the sky, bracing against a freezing wind, wondering what it was like to be gone.

But _oh,_ he thought, _I know this one._

When he looked back down it was just one grave there. Just one name carved into the stone. The wind picked up until it was howling, until the snow was whipping and whirling around him and stinging his face. The whiteness faded into dark, and the frozen into wet and he didn’t recognize the place around him anymore, didn’t remember how he got there or what he was doing.

He was wearing a suit, it was soaking wet. He hurt all over and all he knew was that he was terrified. There was mud under his fingernails and he could still hear bugs, still feel worms against his skin, in his hair. He coughed into the rain, choking on dirt and water, he couldn’t breathe through his nose.

“Bruce.”

It was the only thing he could think.

_“Bruce.”_

“I’m right here.”

Jason jolted, spinning in the rain. Hands caught him, wrapping tight around his arms and keeping him in place. He looked up into familiar blue eyes, water running down into his face, dripping off his chin.

“I’ve got you, I’m right here.” Jason stumbled, reached forward, but the rain was coming down so hard he couldn’t even see. He couldn’t see and the water was pooling at his feet, rising and rising and the hands were gone and no one was there and he was swimming in it, swimming in acid, in green and he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe he couldn’t _breathe-_

He woke with a gasp.

He didn’t understand at first, where he was or what woke him. He blinked into the dark, long shadows stretching over the room he was in, the only light shining in from the moon through a tall slender window to the left of his bed.

He didn’t- He didn’t know where he was and he felt dizzy with adrenaline, heart pounding in his chest, the familiar pulsing _ache_ at the base of his skull. He shivered, pressing his eyes closed tight.

“Master Jason.” 

He flinched, gripping the sheets in clenched fists when his head whipped around, trying to see in the dark. “It’s alright. It’s just me.” Alfred’s silhouette stepped closer. The light from the moon hanging outside his window fell just right on the old man’s face and Jason stared up at him.

“I-” His voice was choked and he couldn’t seem to get anymore words out. The dream was still so close to the surface. Alfred moved again, shifting toward the bed as if to sit. Jason shrank back, his stomach in his throat. _“Don’t-”_

Alfred stopped, hovering just above the surface of the bed.

“My boy,” he spoke softly, “It was just a nightmare.” And then he sank fully onto the mattress.

Jason wanted to argue, wanted to slip out of the bed and vanish out the window, never to be heard from again.

“Didn’t - didn’t feel like one,” he croaked. 

Alfred’s face was in shadow again, and Jason couldn’t tell what he was thinking when the butler reached out to put a hand on his arm. Couldn’t see his reaction when Jason jerked away from him. _“Sorry- I’m sorry-”_ he choked out, feeling sharp, feeling dangerous.

“It’s quite alright.” Alfred soothed, voice quiet and insistent. “I should know better. You’re alright my boy, just breathe.” Jason tried to obey, pulling in a heaving breath like it was the last one he’d ever take.

“Slow down, I’m going to put my hand on your arm, you shake your head if it’s not alright.” 

Jason almost did, going so tense his lungs seized for a brief second. But he managed to hold back from it when the man lowered his hand down. He squeezed gently over Jason’s right forearm and it felt so familiar, like years had disappeared and Jason was fourteen and sick in bed. Resisting every sort of comfort until Alfred talked to him in that gentle, patient voice. 

“It was only a dream, my boy,” he said in that same tone. Jason wanted to fight it, wanted to rally against the way that it _worked._ The way it soothed away some of the trembling terror in his chest, but he didn’t. His arm hurt and everything felt fuzzy around the edges. He found the spike of energy draining out of him along with the fear and he swallowed against a dry throat.

“We-we’re in the manor?” He asked, keeping his voice low, matching Alfred’s.

“Yes.” He sounded apologetic in a way that Jason knew meant Alfred understood why he was asking. “I didn’t want to leave you in the cave when it would be much more comfortable upstairs.”

“It’s ok,” Jason reassured. It wasn’t. Not really, but there were just as many ghosts down there as there were up here and he knew it would have been easier for Alfred to take care of him upstairs instead of making constant trips to the cave. 

Alfred patted at his arm, finally removing his hand. Jason found that he missed it, even when his skin prickled with unease. But the butler just reached over to a basin Jason hadn’t noticed, but could now see the bright sheen on the edge of. He heard the soft slosh of water and tried to follow the motions but it was very dark and he was having trouble focusing now that the adrenaline had faded.

He flinched, just a little, when something cold touched his forehead. There was a split second pause before Alfred continued to lower a wet cloth to his brow and Jason just caught the downward slant of his eyebrows in the shadows over his face. He pressed his hand over the cloth for a moment, easing it back until he was brushing Jason’s hair away from his face. It felt nice.

“You gave me something,” he rasped, eyes sliding closed. As he said it he finally registered the discomfort of an IV on the inside of his right elbow.

“Yes,” was Alfred’s only response.

“You know I hate being on pain meds.” It made everything hazy, out of focus. Back when he was younger it brought on memories of his mother, and the way her face used to go slack and her eyes vacant. Since he came back from the Pit it was the fear of himself. What he might say or do when he didn’t have all his faculties. He waited for the spike of fear at the thought but he just felt tired. Drained, like the Pit - where it lived somewhere in the back of his head - had gone subdued and quiet.

“I also know that you apparently cannot be trusted to make wise decisions regarding your health.” 

That stung, a little, because Jason had been _trying_ he just - didn’t have a lot of options and he hadn’t wanted this to be one of them. Still didn’t feel like a good idea even under the layer of pain medication and fevered infection. But sometimes Jason didn’t get a say, and he’d admit that there wasn’t really a better one at this point. 

Alfred kept brushing his hair back from his face in smooth, gentle motions. It brought back the sensation of Bruce’s fingers carding through his hair as he sat in his own shower, shivering fit to fall apart and half delirious. There was a deep, expanding ache in the center of his chest. A swirling mix of _want_ and _fear._

“Next time, my boy,” Alfred whispered, just as Jason was letting go, unable to fight the drag of the drugs on top of the infection and Alfred smoothing his hair, “you must ask for help. You’ve had me worried half to death.”

  
  


*

  
  


The next time he woke it was to the sound of the latch on his door.

He opened his eyes to a dim room. The curtains were drawn but there was light shining in around the edges and when he looked toward the door he saw Alfred slipping in quietly with a breakfast tray. His face was composed like it always was until he glanced up and saw Jason looking at him. Then his eyes went soft in a way that made Jason swallow roughly.

“I’m glad to see you’re awake at a normal time of day for once.”

Jason huffed a breath through his nose, levering himself to a seated position, careful not to use his left arm. Alfred brought the tray in, unfolding a set of short legs on the bottom and setting it on the bed over Jason’s lap.

“How are you feeling?” He asked as Jason inspected the contents of the tray. There was a scone with butter and jam that had his mouth watering just looking at it. Which was a nice change from the way he’d felt the last two days. Along with the scone were two eggs, two pieces of sausage, a large glass of water, a folded up newspaper (probably more for Alfred than himself), and a little plastic cup with four little pills in it. 

He ignored them for the moment, trying to figure out the answer to Alfred’s question as the butler moved to open his curtains. More than anything, he still felt tired, like there were weights hanging from his eyelids. His _bones_ felt heavy. He flexed his left hand, testing out the muscles in his forearm. There was a sharp twinge that made him stop immediately, but it was nothing he hadn’t dealt with before. The IV line in his right arm was uncomfortable but they always were and Jason figured it was necessary or Alfred would have removed it already. Probably just fluids and antibiotics.

The rest of him was still in one piece, and he was _starving._

“I feel ok. Mostly just tired.” 

Alfred nodded as he turned away from the window, walking back to the bed. Jason picked up a piece of sausage first, taking a bite and groaning appreciatively. “Alfred you’re a saint.”

“So I’ve heard.” He watched Jason for a moment, until he glanced up, feeling oddly self conscious.

“There something on my face?”

“I can’t help but notice you are ignoring the medication.” 

Jason frowned. “That’s not medication, it’s an opiate.” It sounded more snappish that he’d meant it to. Alfred frowned in return, looking as annoyed as he ever did, which wasn’t a lot, but Jason could recognize it easily.

“It is not an opiate. Or a narcotic. It is a prescription dosage of ibuprofen and acetaminophen. I understand your feelings on certain types of pain management and this is the compromise. I gave you something stronger last night because I had to do an emergency debridement of the wound and local anesthetic does not work well when there is infection present. And it was best that you sleep as much as possible.

“It’s still likely to be rather painful even with the pain of the infection fading.”

Jason swallowed his second piece of sausage and stared at the pills. They didn’t have any markings on them. Just four white pills, two round, two oblong.

“I would not lie,” Alfred said, sounding a little offended that Jason would consider it.

“Alright, ok, sorry.” He took the little plastic cup and downed them dry in one go. He didn’t really think he needed them either way but it would make Alfred happy so it was worth the added grogginess in the end. 

“So,” Jason said as he started in on the eggs and Alfred had taken a seat in the chair by the bed, apparently intent on joining him for the meal, “what’s on the docket for the day? Feeding the bats? Waxing the Batmobile? Gonna give that giant penny a nice shine?”

Alfred closed his eyes as if the question pained him deeply but Jason could see the amusement in the tilted line of his mouth. “I believe the penny will survive another week without a shining. The t-Rex however could use some attention.” 

Jason gave a soft snort.

Alfred continued, “I will start things off by relaxing here, enjoying my paper in good company.” Jason swallowed his bite of eggs and stared down at his plate, trying to suppress the twist in his stomach. He found that he felt...better.

Like, a _lot_ better than he had in days. He felt stable, more himself. He hadn’t realized just how awful the infection was making him feel until it was going away. Jason eyed the IV pole where three different bags hung, one larger than the other two, both containing clear liquid.

“What’s in those?”

“A simple saline solution and a liquid vancomycin and ceftriaxone for the infection.”

“...Those some kind of super antibiotics?”

Alfred suppressed a smile, Jason could tell, even with the newspaper mostly blocking his face. He did lower the paper a little though, and when he looked at Jason the humor was gone from his face.

“They are antibiotics that work particularly well in cases of sepsis and animal bites.“ Jason swallowed, feeling oddly self conscious for some reason.

“So that why the antibiotics I was taking didn’t work? Not the right, uh...focus? I was on...amoxicillin I think.”

“Yes, Bruce brought back your prescription, which was over three years out of date.” His voice was flat and Jason paused. He hadn’t actually known that. Hadn’t even thought to check.

“Everybody knows those expiration dates are a hoax,” he said in spite of this. By the look on Alfred’s face it was the wrong thing to say.

“Well I am afraid _everybody_ is incorrect as antibiotics, particularly those derived from penicillin, break down over time and will eventually become entirely ineffective.”

Jason stared at his eggs, feeling warmth bloom up the back of his neck. “Guess that’s why they didn’t work then.” 

Alfred gave a barely audible sigh, almost entirely out of character, making Jason tense all over. “Indeed, though it isn’t unlikely you would have had complications regardless of the age of the prescription. Antibiotics are not all created equally and it’s likely for the severity of your wound and how you received it the dosage you started with was lower than would have been prescribed. 

“Beyond that there are any number of things that could contribute to a stubborn infection that doesn’t respond to the treatment initially prescribed. Which is why you are always instructed to seek medical attention in cases such as this.” 

He was quiet, almost like he was speaking to himself more than Jason, lacking the scolding tone that he would normally expect. It was almost like he was just reciting the information to the general public but for his hushed tone. It was unnerving, coming from Alfred, who was staring at his newspaper like he wasn’t reading a word of it. He was squinting at the page, mouth and eyes both tight around the edges. 

Jason felt like a monumental ignoramus, guilty, and incredibly embarrassed. He should have apologized or given some explanation, _something._ But Jason couldn’t speak. He could barely look at Alfred, knew the man was probably thinking all kinds of things he would never say. Jason couldn’t explain it, and he didn’t want to think about it or what could possibly be going through the butler’s head in that moment. And the longer the silence went on the more his mind started to wander to _other_ things he didn’t want to think about. 

Like how Bruce _and_ Dick had found him passed out in his apartment, delirious with fever. The very idea made his face burn. After he hadn’t wanted them to see what a disaster he was they’d walked in on _that._ Damian was probably furious. He didn’t even know how long he was out for. How long Titus was trapped inside and hadn’t been able to wake him up.

He also remembered waking up to Bruce, fuzzy remnants of what happened that got stronger the longer he’d been under the cold flow of water.

Remembered, _“Never scare me like that again,”_ pressed into the crown of his head like a prayer and abruptly felt tears pricking at his eyes. 

He couldn’t be there. He had no idea where Bruce was in that moment but the idea of seeing him again after this had him nearly in a panic. He wanted to think Bruce wouldn’t say anything. That he was too damn repressed. But he remembered getting chewed out for being reckless as a kid and he also remembered the texts and phone calls.

Bruce reaching out.

He didn’t know, right now, after everything, if he could handle getting yelled at by Bruce.

Jason swallowed another bite of scone but it went down thick and dry in his throat. There was still an entire egg left and half his scone but his appetite waned almost instantly.

He picked at the scone for a moment but even while Alfred was staring at his paper he was attentive enough to notice. “Is anything the matter, Master Jason?”

All at once Jason wanted to ask him about the gift. Alfred was the one to get it to him after all. Did he know why Bruce bought it in the first place? Or where he stashed it any way? Why he hadn’t given it to him, why he’d scribbled out the card and crumpled it up? Had he been upset with Jason at the time? Was he meaning to give it to him, and then something had happened, something Jason had done to make him angry and he’d thrown away the card?

Jason wondered. Felt the deep seated fear. The certainty, in his belly, that this was all very temporary.

“Stomach’s a little upset,” Jason managed to get out, not having to pretend. Alfred frowned and folded his paper, tucking it under the edge of Jason’s plate and reaching for the tray.

“It could be the antibiotics, clearing the body of bacteria is not always a fun process. The ibuprofen and acetaminophen probably do not help...Perhaps I should leave you to it.” He frowned at Jason, just a little, concern shining in his eyes.

“I’m ok,” Jason grunted out. It was only for show, because he really didn’t feel ok and he knew Alfred could tell, even if he thought it was just stomach upset. Alfred stood, walking to the windows. “You should get some rest,” he said as he pulled the curtains closed, dimming the room significantly. “Sleep off the worst of it and hopefully you’ll feel better when you next wake.” He came back around the bed then, picking up Jason’s tray as he went and giving him a sympathetic look.

“We’re glad to have you with us, my boy. I’ll let you sleep.” Then he turned and let himself out of the room.

Jason felt abruptly awful again. Even with his brain no longer overheating, being in the manor, sitting alone in a guest bedroom in the place he grew up felt like a taunting sort of punishment. Like someone out there was watching and laughing. Waiting to see how, exactly, this would blow up in his face. 

He tried to take Alfred’s advice, laying down in the bed, one hand pressed over his stomach, fuller than he’d been in days, trying to suppress the nausea that just kept rolling through him. He didn’t want to see Bruce. Or any of them. Alfred was one thing, separate in a way none of the others were from the things that Jason had done. From the things _any_ of them have done.

He was also the only one of them that hadn’t seen or spoken to Jason between the disastrous day at the dog park and now. They were gonna question his ability to make rational decisions. He was gonna get lectured. They would all think he was a monumental idiot for the way he’d been acting. And he wouldn’t be able to argue, even if his reasons were...better than anyone would realize. Because he sure as hell wasn’t telling anyone.

Jason laid there, waiting for the adrenaline to fade, wondering if this was when he should just - cut the string. He knew it wasn’t gonna last, and wouldn’t it be easier? To cut ties in the midst of dumb drama before he got anymore tangled up in the family? It wasn’t...really what he wanted. He could admit that much to himself now, but it might hurt less than if he waited until it was out of his control. 

It was dim in the room, lights out and curtains closed, but there was still a soft glow around the edges and Jason stared at them, wishing vaguely that Titus was there, laying in the bed next to him. Instead it was just a massive bed with empty sheets, his IV pole tucked up by the headboard.

Who was he kidding? Everything always felt out of his control.

  
  


*

  
  


Jason wasn’t sure at what point his brain quieted enough for sleep to drag him under, only that it must have happened because he woke up again in the evening. 

It was dark in the room and outside but there was a lamp on, on the nightstand next to him. When he turned his head he found Dick sitting there, in the same chair Alfred had used at Breakfast. 

His movement must have caught Dick’s eye because he looked up from the book he was reading and smiled. “Hey sleeping beauty. Wondered when you would rejoin the land of the living. It’s almost six. You slept the whole day away.”

Jason grunted in return, feeling thrown. He’d been expecting Bruce. There was no one better at giving self righteous lectures after all. “What are you doing here?” 

Dick closed his book with a soft thud and set it on the nightstand behind him. “Oh you know, just here to help you through your invalid stage. You’re gonna have to be on an IV for a another week apparently.”

“What are you talking about?” Jason blurted, trying to sit up against the pillows at his back, an obvious thread of alarm in his voice. “Alfred never said anything about me staying that long. That was never part of-”

“Ok, whoa, relax.” Dick put up a hand, eyebrows drawing together as he hunched forward in his chair, elbows resting on his knees. There was a nervous look on his face Jason didn’t know how to interpret. He clenched the sheets in his hands and then grimaced at the sharp pain up his arm.

“They just want you to be on it for two more days. Just a joke, thought you’d groan about it.”

Jason flushed and then there was just this _awful,_ awkward silence while they stared at each other. Dick looked _concerned,_ no doubt over Jason’s vehement reaction to the idea of staying there for a few extra days and Jason felt embarrassed, self conscious, and _trapped._ His last conversation with Dick wasn’t far from his mind and he hated that it probably wasn’t far from Dick’s either. 

Of all of them he was maybe the second to last person Jason had wanted to see.

“Jay,” Dick said in this stupidly soft voice. And Jason could _feel_ the lead in to a serious conversation. Every alarm in his head was ringing, it was reflex more than anything that had him snapping back.

 _“What?”_ There was venom in his tone and Dick frowned at him while Jason looked anywhere but at his face. He could feel his hackles rising, the Pit trembling in response, while he scrambled to work up defenses in his head. It felt vaguely like panic and a thrill of terror shot through him at where this could go if Jason wasn’t careful. When he glanced over and saw Dick about to open his mouth he thought, _nope,_ and he sat up, threw his blankets off, swung his legs over the edge of the bed, and stood. 

“I gotta pee.”

He hadn’t counted on having been laying down for nearly forty eight hours though, or on the kind of havoc a bad infection could wreak on the rest of your body. His legs shook and he stumbled, grabbing at the bed and only succeeding in dragging the comforter half off before he regained his balance. The IV line tugged at the inside of his arm and he hissed at the sensation, blindly flinging his arm back to grab at the pole.

Dick was right there, already up and out of his seat, reaching out to catch him. Jason flinched back without meaning to, felt his face heat at the obvious tell and snarled, _“Don’t touch me.”_

Jason could see the muscle in Dick’s jaw jump as he pulled his hands back, eyebrows drawn low. “What is wrong with you?” But he grimaced after he said it, the bite in his voice sharp.

“Fuck you,” Jason said evenly while his stomach was turning flips a gymnast would be proud of. His whole body wanted to feed on the question, to hold it tight and work it over, let it fester with the rest of the bullshit in his head. The Lazarus was especially responsive and Jason had to swallow against the urge to strike out.

He needed to escape the room. He was staring at the bathroom door, some thirty feet away across open floor. He could make it if there were more things to hold onto on the way but there was nothing. All he had was the IV pole but Jason was nothing if not determined. He took a couple steps across the plush carpet before a dizzy spell hit him hard enough he swayed and there were hands grabbing firmly at his upper arms and yanking him back the few steps he’d managed, forcing him to sit on the end of the bed. Jason jerked out of Dick’s grip, his skin feeling hot, like everything was too close, _too close._

“Jason quit it. I’m worried about you.” The heat in his voice was no surprise but the crack on the last word made it impossible to look up and see his face. Instead Jason stared at the floor, at his own bare feet and the little wheels on the IV stand, gripping the edge of the bed tight enough that his left arm throbbed under the bandage. 

“I can take care of myself,” he forced out, wishing it were true with every fiber of his being. Dick took in a ragged breath and stepped away from him, hands on his hips.

 _“Oh? Can you?”_ And there was that bright, flaring temper. “Cause it doesn’t fucking seem like it.” This was exactly what Jason had been dreading. The lecture, the yelling, the scolding and the _disappointment._ But he also needed it.

He held onto it, let it bolster him when he straightened out his shoulders and gave Dick a challenging look, all while trying to keep hold on the Pit too, feeling it beating at the door to get out. Dick stood there in the half dark of the room, face flushed and eyes shining, expression tense even beyond what Jason expected.

“Do you actually need to pee? Because I can help you to the bathroom if you do. You should be steadier on your feet once you move around some more.” Dick’s voice was quieter, a little less angry though his face hadn’t changed. Jason heaved an irritated sigh. He did actually need to pee but more than anything he needed a moment to gather himself. He didn’t particularly want Dick’s help but if it gave him the option of pushing pause on this whole event he would take him up on it.

“Yes,” he finally bit out, feeling embarrassed to need the help.

“Alright, just let me...” Dick puzzled over the IV and Jason’s injury but eventually he just had Jason hold onto his arm for support instead of the IV pole and helped him shuffle into the on-suite. They went slowly and Dick kept a close, annoying eye on him. Even tried to walk into the bathroom with him before Jason stopped him.

“What the hell, no.”

“You could fall-“

“I’m not going to fall, I’m fine,” Jason snapped. Dick gave him a hard frown but took a step back.

“Just don’t lock the door.” 

Jason resisted sighing again but only just barely. Instead he didn’t say a word as he shut the door in Dick’s face. He walked carefully to the bathroom sink and stood there for a moment, leaning on the edge of the counter. 

He needed to figure out a story. Some kind of explanation for why he didn’t get help that didn’t sound pathetic, sad, or alarming. Only his mind was completely blank while he stood there looking in the mirror. 

He looked awful. Like he hadn’t slept in a week _and_ was dealing with a major infection. Dark purple smudges beneath his eyes, a pale, semi green tint to his skin and glassy eyes. Not to mention his greasy hair. Jason swallowed and turned the tap on, scooping a handful of water to his mouth for a drink. He spotted his toothbrush sitting on the counter. They must have brought it from his apartment. 

His hand shook when he picked it up but he ignored it and went ahead and took a minute to brush his teeth. Jason knew from experience that the little things helped and having a mouth that didn’t feel like it was full of cotton would. If he thought he could get away with it he’d take a shower, but Dick would probably barge into the bathroom just to make sure he didn’t fall and hit his head. Not to mention, if he was being honest with himself he did feel a little light headed just standing at the sink for ninety seconds. 

Jason had no idea how he was gonna explain this. None. He rinsed his mouth out and finally took a step to the toilet to pee, having to drag the IV pole a little closer when he did, and his mind was just as blank as always. There was no excuse that would be deemed good enough to get out of being yelled at. He could claim he just didn’t think it was that bad or that he thought he could get over it on his own. But they wouldn’t believe him, not after they found him on the floor like that. 

Whatever was about to happen Jason didn’t think he could prepare for it. But he could at least keep a handle on the Pit. He had to. However upset he got he had to keep it in check. He was torn between trying for a big blow up - to just rip off the band aide - and trying to minimize the damage while he could.

While washing his hands he came to the conclusion that he was doomed. He scrubbed over his face with his still wet palms and tried to ruffle his hair up a little so it didn’t look so limp and sad. Then he turned back to the door and took a deep breath. He didn’t want to do this. His stomach was in knots over it but the longer he stood there the worse it got and he finally reached forward and yanked it open.

Dick startled, still standing right outside. He offered his arm without a word but Jason ignored it, pushing past him and making his way to the bed himself. He did feel steadier on his feet now that he’d been up a little, but somehow he was already exhausted. He didn’t miss the little sigh from Dick as he followed after him. 

Abruptly Jason decided to sit at the end instead of getting back in. Not because his head was pounding from the short walk or he was afraid he’d embarrass himself again or anything. Just because. 

Dick stopped in front of him, hands on his hips and an inscrutable look on his face. Jason looked up and made eye contact, trying to straighten out his posture. “Alright, what?” 

“I just think we should talk,” Dick said in a forcedly neutral tone. Jason made a face and threw a dismissive hand out.

“Then talk Dick, no one’s stopping you.” He gripped the IV pole again, holding on tight. Dick looked peeved, nostril’s flaring and lips pressing thin. 

“Fine. You wanna know why I’m in here Jay? Because I argued my way into being the one to get to talk to you about your...behavior.” 

Jason shook his head, rolling his eyes at the obvious lead in, it was just what he was waiting for. It was easy to stoke a response. A little too easy, really.

“Please, like you _care.”_

Dick opened his mouth wide and coughed out a noise like the beginning of a word before he cut himself off, clamping his mouth shut with an audible _clack_ and squinting his eyes closed.

“Jay-” his voice was tight and what followed was an unintelligible noise of frustration that had Jason’s toes curling in the carpet ready to stand again if he needed to. If whatever yelling match they were about to have called for it. 

If his grip on the Pit slipped and he needed to get out before he did something he couldn’t live with. 

Dick removed his hands from his hips, pressed both palms to his face and took a deep, slow breath. His whole body sagged on the exhale and when he dropped his hands he just looked tired and upset. His eyes were bright in the light of the lamp, but he didn’t look angry. When he spoke again his voice was low and even.

“Jay, look, before I- Before we even go into all of this-” he gestured to the IV, the pole still clutched tightly in Jason’s right fist, “can we, can we talk about why you’re upset with me?”

Jason felt himself flush all over again. He wanted to snap, _I’m not,_ but considering the conversation they’d just had he didn’t think it would come across as very sincere. And maybe he was - a little - upset still. Even though he knew that was unfair. It was stupid. Dick had _apologized._ It wasn’t even - it was a misunderstanding. He shouldn’t still be mad or hurt or anything about it.

“I’m not- I’ll get over it Dick. You apologized, it’s fine.” He still sounded defensive and aggravated to his own ears and he rolled his shoulders, trying not to let go of the hot ball of anger in his belly. He would still probably need it. Especially if Dick insisted on having this conversation.

Dick was frowning at him, unconvinced with these big, sad eyes. “Jay, I said I was sorry but _you_ never said anything.”

“Yes I did, I said I was fine.” He found himself staring at that bathroom door, avoiding looking at Dick. He stepped to the side, effectively blocking his view of it, arms crossing over his chest before he seemed to think better of it and dropped them, shoving his hands in the pocket of his sweatshirt. 

“What you said was that you didn’t want to talk about it.”

“And I don’t,” Jason offered back, voice clipped, staring at the neck of Dick’s hoodie where there was a light spot in the fabric, a bleach stain from way back when he’d started doing his own laundry. “There’s nothing to talk about.” His voice was losing steam already, and he hated that, didn’t want to face this without that heat. 

Dick gave him these flat, unimpressed brows and pressed thin lips and said, “ok, you don’t have to say anything, but I want to say something while I’ve got you in person and you can’t hang up on me, ok?”

Jason didn’t say anything back but his stomach was in knots, a deep, oily hurt dragging itself to the surface that he tried to push back down. He didn’t want to hear what Dick had to say.

He sort of, desperately did though.

Dick took a deep breath and shuffled forward, seating himself very carefully on the edge of the bed next to Jason, just on the other side of the IV pole.

“I need you to understand that I did not mean-”

“You already said-”

“Just let me finish Jay, please.” His voice was pleading more than frustrated and when Jason glanced over he looked determined and level.

“I need you to understand, that I did not mean I thought you were over what _happened._ I would never - I would _never_ say that. I would never _think_ it. Shit, I’d be a complete hypocrite if I did ‘cause I’m sure as hell not over it.” 

Jason didn’t want to feel the way his chest tightened at Dick’s words but it was impossible to ignore when his breath caught even while his stomach rolled with nausea because this was just making everything _worse._

He wanted to be angry and upset. If this was all going to boil over he wanted to storm out and have an excuse to feed the self righteous anger than had been harder and harder to stoke lately. But the apologies, and the concern, the _care_ \- Jason was selfish, he knew, but he didn’t want to feel like this was all his fault.

“I know,” he finally said, half whispered, “I’m sorry I said the stupid shit I did too.” He dropped his grip on the pole next to him, clasping his hands together between his knees and staring at his thumbs. When he finally looked over Dick was looking at him like he might cry and Jason felt so caught of guard he nearly toppled sideways off the bed.

“Please tell me,” Dick said, very quietly, “and don’t feel bad if it did, but...did our conversation...did it have anything to do with why you didn’t tell anybody...?” He nodded toward the IV, and there was such obvious pain on his face that any lingering resentment inside Jason melted away like it was never there and just left him feeling like shit.

He gave a guarded scoff and shook his head. “Not everything is about you Dick.” Jason thought of the way his hands shook, of the way he could see himself blowing up an entire grocery store, how he nearly killed two people in the last ten days and then stood by and watched while a man got mugged.

“Ok,” Dick said, but he didn’t sound relieved so much as worried. “Then can you tell me what it _was_ about Jay? Because-” He looked, and sounded, a little sick as he continued, “because I’ll tell you why I fought off Bruce and Alfred both to be the one to talk to you about this.

“Alfred won’t say it, probably won’t let himself _think it,_ and Bruce has come a long way in a short period of time but-” he shook his head then, leaning forward so he could look directly around the IV pole, right at Jason’s face. “You’ve got to see how this looks Jay,” he whispered it, like something dangerous.

Jason went very still, looked back down at his hands. Dick reached out, hesitated for only a split second, and then put his hand on Jason’s arm, squeezing tight. 

“This wasn’t just a foolish mistake. Even if you took antibiotics that weren’t expired, and yeah, I heard about that too. You know better than to ever let an infection get like that without medical intervention. You could have died Jay, and you know that. By not getting h-”

The more Dick talked the more shame Jason felt crawling across his skin. Antsy and defensive, he couldn’t stop himself when he snapped, “I’m not fucking suicidal Dick.”

This wasn’t the conversation he had been expecting. The yelling, yeah, a lecture on responsibility, probably. Not this. It burned, to touch the things Dick was implying. They weren’t - he really hadn’t meant to-

Dick snapped his mouth shut, hand still gripping Jason’s wrist tight, still looking sick and he said, “Ok. Ok.” He swallowed, “So can you tell me, please, what’s going on? Because I’m telling you, Alfred’s not the only one who would miss you if you were gone.”

Jason felt so twisted up he was just one massive knot of tangled feelings. He wanted Dick to shut up. But mostly because his eyes were stinging and his throat felt hot and tight and he was cold all over.

He thought of what would happen if he admitted it. Of how Dick would look at him if he knew. Thought of him saying _We all know now that you weren’t really yourself right after the pit,_ and snapping back at him. 

He didn’t want him to know. God he didn’t want any of them to know.

He could still feel it, when he looked for it, the thrumming heartbeat, just off rhythm with his own, radiating out from the top of his spine. He wanted to spill his fucking _guts._

There was a drawn out silence, and when Jason opened his mouth he didn’t even know what he was going to say when there was the sudden, thundering sound of footsteps down the hall and Damian’s voice came filtering through the walls.

 _“You cannot tell me what to do, Drake!”_ And the bedroom door was thrown open, making both Jason and Dick jump when it ricocheted off the door stop.

Damian stood there, face tight and a little red. Eyebrows pinched and with a sharp frown. He stepped into the room and his eyebrows immediately released their stranglehold on his nose. “See, he is awake. Grayson is already here.”

Tim rounded the door frame then, looking flustered and irritated. He made eye contact with Dick over Damian’s head and mouthed _sorry,_ before his eyes flicked to Jason’s face and he went a little pink.

Damian didn’t stop once he was in the room. Instead he continued until he was standing at the end of the bed, facing both Jason and Dick with his arms crossed over his chest. Jason watched the kid, feeling weirdly apprehensive and guilty. Because it was obvious now that they had been trying to hide this conversation from him. _Too young,_ Jason thought, Damian was too young.

“Hey kid,” Jason finally offered, feeling stupid and relieved that whatever he was about to say to Dick never had a chance to see the light of day.

“You have much explaining to do.”

 _“Damian,”_ Dick and Tim both said at once, clearly annoyed. Dick stood up from the bed, turning to face Jason and standing parallel to Damian. 

Just then Titus came trotting into the room, pushing past Tim who was still blocking the doorway. Upon seeing Jason Titus leapt onto the bed, tail wagging, and rushed up to his back only to begin insistently licking at the side of his face.

 _“Geez, Titus, what-”_ He tried to shove him back, leaning his face away when Tim rushed in, grabbing at the dog’s collar and pulling him away.

“Do not touch him, Drake!” Damian snapped, making Tim flush an angry red from the base of his neck all the way up to meet the high color on his cheeks.

“Damian, let it go,” Dick said, voice harder and more clipped than the kid was apparently expecting by his startled frown. When Jason glanced back toward Tim to spy Titus, to see if he could get the pup to lay down at least, there was another presence in the room, standing quietly by the door. 

Cassandra. Jason hadn’t spoken to her much, she tended to give him the heebie-jeebies, she always knew too much. As soon as he saw her he turned back away again, terrified somehow she would know what was wrong just by looking at him.

“What is going on here?”

Of course as soon as he looked away _that_ happened. Jason went so stiff that both Dick and Damian gave him startled looks.

“I told all of you to stay out of this room until Jason came out on his own.” Bruce’s disgruntled voice got an immediately defensive scowl from Damian.

“I was _trying_ to keep Damian out but he wouldn’t liste-” Tim’s voice came from behind him as he lead Titus down from the bed, cut off immediately by an irate Damian.

“You were _trying_ to exclude me!” His voice was near a shout and a little shrill. Dick winced, putting a hand to the back of his neck.

“That isn’t true-”

“Then why did you both lie?” He was obviously upset, and Jason, with a squirming stomach, thought he knew why.

“Damian,” Bruce’s voice was softer now, more patient, and Jason knew Bruce got it too, tried as hard as he could to find something else to look at when Bruce rounded the end of the bed and pulled the kid right out of Dick’s grip and into a quick hug. “We told you Jason was fine, no one was lying. Dick just wanted to speak to him for a minute, that’s all.”

Damian pulled away an instant later, face flushed, shoulders taught and chin jutting high. Bruce kept a hand on his shoulder but he shook it off, reaching a hand out toward Titus, who Tim still had by the collar. Everyone had slowly migrated to crowd around the end of Jason’s bed. Damian didn’t say anything, but gave a quick, harsh motion with his hand and Tim let go, allowing the dog to trot to his owner where he sat at his side and looked up at him expectantly. Damian smoothed a hand over his head once and then crossed his arms back over his chest.

Jason watched the whole thing with his heart in his throat. Watched Bruce’s face carefully where he gazed at Damian with a pinched, worried expression, before his eyes flicked back toward Jason, who immediately looked away. Instead he looked at Damian, who had managed to regain some of his composure if the flat, haughty look on his face was anything to go by. 

“You did not answer.”

“What?” Jason asked dumbly, still stuck on the face that this kid had been _worried_ about him.

“I would like an explanation for what impossibly stupid thing you could have done to get yourself bitten by a dog.”

“Damian,” Dick sounded exasperated this time, coming up and wrapping both arms around his neck and shoulders and pulling him to lean against his front. “Would you stop? Jason’s not feeling good, give him a break.” He was surprised the kid didn’t immediately slip out of the loose hold but he stayed there, letting Dick hang all over him.

“He must have done something to deserve it, animals do not simply bite for no reason,” Damian defended, petting at Titus’ head once more. Tim and Bruce both drew a breath like they were going to jump to his defense or something, which, _weird,_ but Jason was finally feeling like his tongue wasn’t glued to the roof of his mouth and he jumped in instead. 

“It wasn’t the dog, but it wasn’t me either, kid.”

Damian continued to scowl while all other eyes turned to him. Cass was still somewhere behind him and he did his best not to think about it.

“There were these assholes at the dog park my first day, sicked a Rottweiler on Titus, I stepped in, that’s what happened.”

Dick looked flabbergasted and mildly horrified and Tim gave equally shocked wide eyes.

“Are you serious? I assumed it happened on patrol.” Jason didn’t deign to mention any of his patrols from the past week, just continued.

“It was at the park. I think they were trying to see how Titus would react. He looks big and tough and all.” He looked down at the monster of a dog, sitting on his butt next to Damian’s feet, tongue just poking out of the front of his mouth.

“But why would they do that?” Tim asked, still horrified. Bruce stood in the middle of them all, eyes centered on Jason who continued to stare at Damian whose eyes were hard and apprehensive all at once.

“Dog fights,” he hissed through clenched teeth. Jason nodded.

“They were looking for an audience probably, and fresh meat.”

Damian looked briefly murderous, clenching his fists in the front of his shirt while Dick squeezed his shoulders, brows drawn down in concern. Tim looked pretty damn upset too, go figure. When he chanced a glance at Bruce he couldn’t read him. It was just the blank expression he was used to, the same one he always saw when he had dreams with him in them.

“I broke one of their wrists if it makes you feel any better,” Jason threw out, ignoring the pang of unease when he easily recalled how it had happened. It hadn’t been a choice, or on purpose, it had been the Lazarus, hungry for something it wasn’t getting enough of. Bile rose in his throat and he forced it down, feeling all eyes on him like hot spotlights on a stage.

“And the dog?” Damian bit back.

“What?”

“What of the dog that bit you? Where is it?”

“Damian-” Bruce started, face pinched.

“You let them take it with them didn’t you? Do you have any idea-” Now he stepped forward, pulling out of Dick’s grip, looking pale and furious. His voice cracked and Jason felt suddenly sick again. Because he had. He’d let them take the dog back.

Bruce stepped forward, folding one large hand over Damian’s shoulder.

“Jason was injured,” Bruce said, quiet but firm. “And he had Titus with him.” At this Bruce looked up, making an instant of eye contact before Jason managed to divert his gaze. “Thank you again for watching him, and protecting him.” It was a pointed thing to say right in front of Damian, who went red in the face but didn’t say anything. Just drew circles in Titus’ fur, paying more attention to his dog than anyone else in the room.

“I told Babs about it, asked her to look into it. I didn’t just let it go.” It should have been easier than that, he knew, it should have been a simple phone call and a subsequent take down but Jason wondered now if it wasn’t better that he’d tossed the card instead of going after those men. He had no idea what he would have done had he stumbled on the scene with injured animals and the smell of blood.

Damian didn’t respond or even look up, just tugged on Titus’ collar until the dog leaned over, slumping into his side, head resting against the kid’s chest.

“I wondered where everyone had gotten to.” Of course, every single person in the entire manor would end up in Jason’s room. Unless Stephanie was somewhere, which was possible.

Everyone turned to look at Alfred, standing in the doorway with a tray in his hands just like the one he’d brought in at breakfast. “I believe it is dinner time for everyone? And that Master Jason has probably had enough excitement for the day, hm?”

“What’d you make Alfie?” Dick tossed out, sticking his hands back in his sweatshirt pocket, friendly but subdued. Probably unhappy with how he’d been irreversibly interrupted.

“Why not go find out, Master Richard?” It was hint enough, and Bruce squeezed Damian’s shoulder, pushing him gently toward the door. Dick and Bruce both hovered for a moment, giving Jason matching, indecipherable looks he avoided before they both followed. 

Alfred brought the tray in, setting it on the nightstand by the chair Dick had been reading in, moving his book to the dresser near the door. “You could always join them in the dining room, if you are feeling up to it?” Alfred looked doubtful, but also like he was hoping the answer was yes. Jason only shook his head, watching Tim and Cass where they both still stood near the door, Cass making unclear gestures at Tim and frowning harshly. 

“That’s quite alright, I fixed a nice beef stew in honor of the weather, I hope your stomach is doing better?” Jason shifted on the bed, pushing himself up, carefully this time, so he didn’t fall on his ass in front of Alfred, Tim, and Cass and he shuffled back to the head of the bed with his IV pole. He got back in, a little awkwardly, with Tim and Cass still arguing in the doorway. Alfred settled the tray over his legs before he had a chance to reach for it.

“Are you two idiots gonna stand there are all evening or what?” He finally bit out, while staring at a buttered piece of crusty bread and steaming soup. Skipping lunch and not quite finishing breakfast meant that his returning appetite was fierce. He felt close to faint looking the magnificence before him.

“Uh, we’re gonna watch a movie after dinner. In the den,” Tim finally blurted, sounding nervous. “Unless that’s stupid, in which case I never said anything.” Cass elbowed him in the ribs and he winced, glaring at her. 

Alfred raised an eyebrow as he straightened Jason’s sheets where they were rumpled at the bottom. 

“You’re invited, though, if you feel like joining. Stephanie’s coming. Anyway, rest up.” With that Tim turned and rushed out of the room, leaving Cass standing there looking thoroughly unimpressed.

Alfred just shook his head with a fond smile in place. “I must go attend to the dishes. I’ll return for your tray in a little while.”

“Thanks, Alfie,” Jason said, subdued as he reached for the bread.

Alfred left quietly, and there was a moment before Jason realized the room wasn’t actually empty. He paused halfway through taking a bite of bread and looked up to stare at Cassandra Wayne, who looked primly back at him, face impassive.

“You will come,” she said.

“Uh,” Jason managed, after forcing himself to swallow too quickly, a hard lump working its way down his throat. “If I’m-”

“You _will_ come.” They stared at each other and she cocked her head to the side for a second, nodded, and then turned and walked out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For how much I hate writing dream sequences, I write _so many_ lmao. Hope you enjoyed! Even though I have been working just as much as always so far during these...trying times? Whatever you want to call them, I’ve been highly productive in my writing. Probably because I don’t want to think about the other stuff hahaha, *cries* 
> 
> I hope you all are doing well and staying safe, clean, and healthy. Stay home if you’re sick and even if you’re not try to social distance as much as possible!!! ESPECIALLY if you are in a highly effected area like me. 
> 
> In light of what’s happening in the world, as a distraction for you all as well as myself I’m tentatively opening requests on my [tumblr](https://batbirdies.tumblr.com). Gen only, Batfam only, and I make no promises but if your prompt strikes my fancy I’m sure I can whip up a one shot or something...
> 
> Title from Escapism, from Steven Universe (I don’t even watch it but this song is bomb and I wish it was longer)


	13. What is in your nature? Looms inside your blood?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason joined movie night against his better judgement. It was...weird.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings in end notes.
> 
> One thing: got a few medical tips from a professional (thank you aonian!) and made a couple changes to the previous chapter. It totally doesn’t effect the story so do not feel the need to re-read the chapter but hopefully it now appears more medically accurate.

Jason had heavily debated not doing this. After he’d finished his food he’d sat on the bed, rubbing his palms over soft pajama bottoms telling himself it wouldn’t matter and he didn’t need to show up for the stupid movie. But then he thought of Cass, the one person in their little clan he knew the least, showing up and dragging him there by his ear and he’d given in.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to join them, it was just...it was more of everything he was trying not to want. It was part of the life he knew he couldn’t have and pretending for an evening sounded nice and also like the worst possible idea ever. 

But Jason never did have very good judgement. So there he was, standing in the doorway to the den, leaning probably more than he should on his IV stand and watching Tim set up the movie. Cass was already curled up by the armrest of the couch and Stephanie sat on the floor in front of her. No one else was there yet. Jason shuffled in, feeling out of place and remarkably nervous. Cass didn’t even look at him but he saw her give a small smile at his entrance and felt uneasy about that too. 

Tim and Stephanie though both glanced back at him. Tim with open shock on his face, Stephanie with a bright grin. “Jason, you came.”

“Nice observation,” he snapped back on reflex, regretting the hard edge of it immediately. But Tim just laughed good naturedly as he stood up from fiddling with the PlayStation.

“Something’s wrong with the wireless controller, it’s not holding a charge, so, wired it is.” He flicked the cord attached to the controller in his hand as he sat next to Cass, leaving easily enough space for two more people. “We’re just picking the movie, but we need to do it before Dick comes in or he’ll try to get us to watching something Pixar.”

“What’s wrong with Pixar?” Jason wondered aloud, taking the seat furthest from both of them, leaving his IV dangling next to the couch and leaning on the armrest. Stephanie made a face and Tim shrugged as he pulled up an on screen menu.

“Nothing, we’ve just watched them all thirty times. I don’t even think Dick really likes them, he’s just trying to instill morals in the gremlin.” Stephanie snorted, coughed, and then reached over and smacked Tim on the knee. He shoved her back with the side of his leg. “It doesn’t really matter though, you wanna pick?” Tim offered him the controller but Jason waved it off. There was a weird amount of pressure involved in picking a movie for a group of people, and especially this group. No, Jason wasn’t interested in that.

“Let Stephanie choose.” He said instead, to which she looked delighted, flipping her head around to stare up at Tim where he frowned.

“I told you it was my turn,” she said, holding her hand out.

“It is not. If it’s anyone’s turn it’s mine.” She gave him a long stare, eyebrows slowly rising, not moving her hand from where it hovered in front of him. Finally Tim heaved a heavy sigh and slapped it into her palm. She smiled and gave a tiny solute. 

“Something easy, please. My brain is tired,” Tim requested as he slumped back into the cushions. 

“Got you covered Tiny Tim. I think we’re all in need of a little comedy in our lives, don’t you?” She looked right at Jason when she asked but he just shrugged, looking at the screen where rows of movie covers were displayed. She eyed him for another second but didn’t say anything else as she began to scroll through titles.

It was strange to sit there while they acted so natural, like he wasn’t even there. Like they weren’t remotely concerned about his presence. Because Jason sort of _was._ His dream the night before still hovered in the back of his mind, bringing up the thrumming beat of the pit until it felt like a second pulse, staccato against the back of his skin. 

He swallowed and concentrated on the screen, tucking his hands into his sweat pockets and trying to just ignore it.

“Really Steph?” Tim whined when she made a crow of satisfaction as she clicked on a title.

“It’s good. You’ll like it Tim.” 

He gave a doubtful grumble in response.

“Cass likes it, don’t you Cass?” Stephanie leaned her head back until it rested against Cass’s knees, trying to look at her from the awkward angle. 

“Yes, it’s good. You will like.” 

“Bridesmaids?” Dick said from the doorway, massive bowl of popcorn in hand. “Solid choice.” He sat down between Tim and Jason on the couch. Setting the popcorn on the coffee table he then scooted toward Jason and sagged into him, slinging an arm around his shoulders in the same way Jason was used to seeing him with Damian. All possessive physicality, no hesitation whatsoever. Jason went stiff, felt that beat against his skin, felt it _louder,_ wondered if Dick could feel it in his shoulders thrumming against the sensitive skin at his underarm. 

Dick shifted minutely, looking at him out of the corner of his eye with a hesitant downturn of his mouth. “Too much?” He asked it under his breath, quiet enough that Tim wouldn’t hear it and Jason wanted to say _fucking yes,_ but he didn’t want to wreck this and it wasn’t _bad_ per say. It just wasn’t anything Jason was used to. He forced his body to unclench, pressing back into the cushions and giving a tiny shake of his head. Dick grinned. “I’m glad you came,” it was quiet again, just for Jason and he got the sense there was more he wanted to add but then he shifted, his body pointedly facing forward and concentrating on the movie.

Jason knew the conversation they were having earlier wasn’t really over but somehow he prayed he could weasel his way out of the manor before it resumed. Delay the inevitable, get a story straight somehow before Dick asked him anything again. He didn’t know what he was going to do about any of this. It felt like he was treading water in a storm, just waiting for the next wave to hit and hoping he could weather it.

He kept thinking there must be a way to get a handle on all of it. Maybe he could ask Zatanna? She was the only person he was really aware of who specialized in magic...there was John Constantine too, he supposed, but the guy was a prick and Jason had no idea how to get in contact with either of them. And even if he managed it on his own it would get back to Bruce and he just - it was all just versions of the same end. Either everyone found out and his life fell apart or he managed to keep it to himself long enough to really hurt, possibly _kill_ somebody and then it felt apart anyway. Except worse, because maybe he _killed someone._

There just didn’t seem like there was a right answer, or at least, not one that ended with Jason getting to keep - _this._ He didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t stop obsessively feeling for the Pit. Looking and finding it just where it always was, a spike of anxiety shooting through him every time. 

About ten minutes into the movie the arm around his shoulders started to feel restraining. The third time he shifted position, trying to relieve the weight of it without brushing Dick off he removed his arm without a word or a sideways glance. Just leaned back into his side with his arms folded around his stomach. Jason swallowed, feeling the press of him there and reminding himself that this was what was at stake. He needed to _figure this out._

Vaguely, Jason was aware that the movie was funny, but only because Cass, Dick, Steph, and Tim laughed at various parts. Jason was barely conscious of the character’s names. Dick nudged him at one point, giving him those same old Bambi eyes. Jason wasn’t sure what exactly he was telegraphing but he grunted in response and sunk a little further into the cushions, trying to play casual. 

Damian wandered in about halfway through, arm slung over Titus’ back. The dog seemed just as delighted to have Damian back as the kid was to have his dog. Kept looking up at him and wagging his tail like he’d just remembered who it was that was touching him. 

The kid stared at the tv a moment and rolled his eyes but still wandered over and sat on the floor, back to the couch, shoulders shoved between Jason and Dick’s knees when they both moved to make room for him. Titus laid down on the floor, curled up between Stephanie and Damian in front of the couch. Cass lowered a single foot and began to stroke it back and forth over his back and the dog laid his head in Damian’s lap. Jason was, maybe, kinda sorta jealous. Missing the way he could run a hand down the dog’s neck and focus on the movement, on the feeling of his soft fur. 

But then minutes later a tuxedo printed cat wandered in. Jason watched it, realizing it must be _Alfred._ He’d met it once, way back when they’d all stormed the cave to help bring Damian back. He hadn’t known its name back then. 

The cat did a loop around the couch, sniffed at Titus, jumped on Damian’s legs so it could rub itself across Titus’ face, accepted a few scratches from the kid, and then jumped up into Jason’s lap without so much as a flick of the tail. Jason startled so hard he jostled Dick into Tim and then blushed like the idiot he was. 

“Sorry,” he grunted out, letting his hands fall vaguely on either side of the cat that turned circles in his lap and just - laid down. He was purring even, lazily flicking his tail back and forth. 

Cass leaned forward over Stephanie so she could see and gave Jason an unhappy expression, arms crossed over her chest. Dick just grinned, leaning back into his side. “She’s totally jealous,” he whispered.

Damian looked at him, eyes suspicious, but after a moment he turned back to the movie, apparently not concerned enough to do anything about it. Jason waited for a minute, staring down at the cat, finally, hesitantly putting a hand on its back and stroking down towards the tail. The purring intensified in a way that made Jason’s mouth tick up in an involuntary smile. The cat half rolled over, exposing part of its stomach, eyes shut in little crescent shapes, tail lazily flicking back and forth. 

It trusted him, it dawned on Jason a minute later as he carefully avoided the cat’s belly and scratched under his chin, running calloused fingers through the scruff on his neck. 

The whole evening was... _bewildering_ Jason thought was a good word. He paid zero attention to the movie, couldn’t even remember the title because he was hyper aware of Damian’s back touching his legs and Dick’s arm brushing against his. Tim fast asleep, head tilted back over the headrest and mouth gaping open. Cass propping a pillow on Tim’s lap near the end and laying down, hooking her legs over the armrest. Stephanie leaning over until she was practically laying on top of Titus, reaching out and smoothing a hand through Damian’s hair, just once before he ducked away. 

It reminded Jason dimly of books he’d read in the past. Oddly, he thought of _Little Women_ of all things. Of all the sisters sitting around in the main room of the house, just comfortable _being_ there. It was like a spell was cast, and Jason thought that it couldn’t get any more bizarre until the credits were rolling and Bruce walked in. 

He fought the way he wanted to tense, didn’t want Dick or Bruce himself to notice, but Jason was tracking his every move as he went around the room.

He grabbed a blanket out of a basket in the corner and draped it over Damian, who’d had his arms tucked around himself since he sat down. He tugged on a lock of Stephanie’s hair as he was standing back up and she gave him a narrow eyed look, not moving her head from where it was propped on her arms folded over Titus’ back. He tickled the bottom of Cass’s feet, where they stuck out over the armrest and she made this tiny little squeak and jut a kick toward his face that he dodged without even looking. He leaned down and planted a quick kiss to Tim’s head, ruffled Dick’s hair, and then he was standing behind Jason, just out of his sight, and Jason felt frozen solid. He was holding himself so tense he knew he was going to flinch if Bruce touched him but he didn’t know what to do and he was inexplicably so damn nervous. 

Bruce hesitated behind him. He could hear him _breathing,_ it lifted the hair on the back of his neck and then the tv screen went black at the end of the credits and Jason could see him. He could _see_ Bruce standing behind him reflected in the mirror finish of the screen, hand raised, hovering just over his head and that same blank expression he always had no matter what he was thinking but for the flared nostrils. Which usually meant he was either angry or nervous.

Jason couldn’t take it.

He dislodged Alfred the cat, picking him up too fast, setting him in Dick’s lap who looked at him with a startled expression even while his hands automatically came up to smooth the ruffled fur. Jason was off the couch and standing the next instant, barely managing to keep his breathing in check and to not trip over Damian. 

“Goodnight,” he clipped out, not looking at anyone, especially not at Bruce even though he still got a glimpse of wide, startled eyes as he rushed out of the room. There were a few questioning noises thrown out, a confused Tim waking from his nap and Dick swiping halfheartedly at his wrist, but not fast enough. Bruce called out to him, as he rounded the doorway.

“Goodnight Jay-” It was the last thing he heard before he was halfway down the hall, heart pounding in his throat and dizzy from the sudden movement. 

He knew he made it weird, he just - _shit._

Getting back to his room felt like escaping execution, like there were hounds at his ankles the whole way there and the click of the door latch sounded like a gunshot in his head, making him flinch. He stood there, back pressed against the door, hand still on the knob, for an unknown period of time just breathing hard. It took him all that time to notice there was something lying on his now made up bed.

Two something’s actually.

His feet shuffled forward of their own accord because Jason was eyeing them both warily. One was a small rectangular shape, gift wrapped in red and blue. The other was just a sheet of paper, laid out next to it. Jason picked it up with gentle hands, still feeling the slight tremor working through them. 

It was a drawing. A pencil sketch on thick, sturdy paper. A large dog stood in the image, looking away from the viewer toward a man in the background, hands in his pockets. He stared at it for a long time, inspecting the face of the man where his features looked oddly familiar, familiar enough that it dawned on him slowly that it was him. It was a drawing of Jason and Titus, an unknown background of grass and trees. There was a tiny signature in the bottom right of the page that was largely illegible beyond the first letter, _D._

Jason set it to the side, swallowing against a dry throat before he picked up the wrapped package. He ran a hand over it as he turned and sat on the edge of the bed. The paper was textured, smooth alternating to glossy, he tore it off without regard to the design of it, stared down at a copy of _The Secret Garden._ Hardback, leather cover with a scrolling design arching around an embossed image of a locked gate, vines growing through the bars.

Carefully he opened the cover, hands shaking more than they had been. A note slipped out, floating to the floor. Jason stretched to retrieve it, just a thin slip of paper, but the handwriting was unmistakable. Graceful but messy cursive, slanting dramatically to the left. 

_Jason,_

_I know this isn’t a rare find, it’s not an original printing or signed by the author or anything. But it is a beautiful copy and the illustrations are large and detailed. This story always reminded me of you as a boy in certain ways, that you always find a way to thrive, no matter the circumstance._

_-Bruce_

Jason tipped the cover closed, gripping the book so tight for a moment that the edges dug into his palms before he forced himself to set it on the nightstand. 

It was everything he wanted and everything he was afraid of. That boy that Bruce knew, that’s all Jason could be of him anymore, a reminder.

He planted his face in his hands for a moment, pressing his palms against his eye sockets and seeing explosions in his head. There just wasn’t a way he could have this. There just...there was no version of Jason’s life where he got to keep this, and he didn’t want to think about it anymore.

He fell asleep fast, much more quickly even than earlier in the day, despite being unconscious for most of it. His body was drained and his mind even more so. The only thing he registered before losing himself to the dark was that soft thrumming beat, ever present, always there, the little reminder that his control of this situation was temporary, if that. 

  
  


*

  
  


Jason was in the manor.

It was dark, and he was walking down the hall and it felt like it was just, never ending. Like it was a maze and Jason was stuck in the center, trying to reach the end, to find a way out. He’d been wandering for a long time he thought. 

There were doors lining the walls every once in a while but Jason hadn’t tried any yet. None of them looked like a door out, and he didn’t want to get even more lost.

He pulled his IV stand with him, shuffling along in his pajama’s. He turned when the hall met another, but it looked just the same. Sconces lined the walls, glowing just light enough to see by. There were no windows, Jason could swear he’d passed the same little side table three times now and he was beginning to feel anxious. 

There was light coming from beneath one of the doors as he approached. He heard gun fire and he flinched, hard, nearly falling into the opposite wall. He stood there for a long time, breathing hard, staring at the closed door. He watched the light leaking out at the bottom as shadows crossed over it, listened to feet shuffling over the carpet and then voices. 

_“You don’t want to do this, I know you don’t.”_ The words were slurred, like the speaker was concussed or something and it took Jason a minute to place the voice but as soon as he did he was stumbling to the door, slamming his shoulder into it and throwing it open.

The first thing he saw was the gun, held in a gloved hand that attached to an arm that attached to a torso that was covered in a brown leather jacket that led up to a bright, red helmet. 

The room wasn’t...a room exactly. It was. Because there was furniture around, and a roof and they were still inside, but there were no walls in sight, just endless floor stretching out around them. Tim was laying on the carpet, breathing hard, wheezing, his nose was bloody all down his chin and one of his eyes was half swollen shut. 

“This isn’t you,” he said, voice hoarse. Jason swallowed, standing frozen in the doorway and watching himself stand over Tim with a gun.

“This is exactly who I am,” he said, “it always has been.” His voice was grave, deep and grating and Jason could feel the words in his chest, the reverberation in his own vocal cords even though it wasn’t him, he hadn’t said that.

“Stop,” he tried to yell but it came out in a whisper. Both of them looked at Jason then, the blank, stark face of his own red helmet and Tim, eyes dark and hopeless. 

There were other people in the room Jason realized, laid out across the floor. His eyes darted over them faster than he could register but for the bright white of Alfred’s starched shirt, stained red where it peaked through the torn shoulder of his sweater. He was sprawled on his side, facing away from them.

“Stop,” Jason rasped, eyes welling with tears when they fell on the bright yellow of Robin’s cape. 

“No.” 

The _‘POP’_ that followed made Jason flinch, tripping backwards until he fell. 

He never hit the floor, just kept going, falling and falling into blackness, the gunshot echoing again and again in his head. Heart pounding in his ears, the Lazarus clawing up his throat.

He came to with a jerk, dragging in a deep lungful of air like he’d never tasted it before. The Pit was pounding in his ears, above his own heartbeat, and his whole body trembled and he coughed, choked on nothing, forced himself to sit up, propped on his elbows and _breathe._

Jason wanted to scream, he wanted to throw up, he wanted to wrap his hands around someone’s neck and _squeeze._

His throat worked convulsively, swallowing around a lump as he curled forward in the bed, wrapping his arms around his knees and shaking his head, hard. 

“No, _no,”_ he whispered it to himself, pushed away the sensation, pushed down the urge to go looking for his guns somewhere in the cave. Anxiety rolled through him. He wasn’t safe. He shouldn’t be there, he could hurt someone, he _wanted_ to hurt someone. Even after _that._

__

__

Something scratched at his door and he started, hands gripping his knees so tight it hurt, sent that familiar twinge through his wounded arm. He blinked out into the dark and listened, trying to hear beyond his own whistling breaths.

A soft whine, and the scratching noise again.

Jason scrambled out of bed, hissing when his blankets wrapped up in the IV line and pulled on it. Carefully he extracted them and managed to stagger over to the door. Titus shoved in as soon as he opened it and Jason let himself slide to the floor, sitting on his knees where the dog let out a soft whine and licked his cheek, over his left eye, his nose. He focused on that, steadied his breathing.

He sat there with his hands in his lap, letting Titus lick over his ear and chin and focused on slowing his heart beat, on the sensation of a tongue running over the side of his face, a cold nose poking at his cheek. He brought a hand up, smoothing it down Titus’ neck, then his leg, repeated the motion.

Eventually there was a noise from down the hall. Jason jumped, fingers clutching at Titus’ fur as he listened, felt his heart rate kicking back up when soft footsteps padded on the carpet outside his room.

“Titus,” a young voice whispered harshly. Jason’s body didn’t know whether to relax or stiffen when he recognized it as Damian. He just paused, hand still resting on the dog’s shoulder when he stuck his nose near Jason’s ear and huffed out a breath right in it. It was enough to rattle him out of whatever trance he’d fallen into and he jerked his head back, rubbing at his ear and cursing under his breath. A second later the footsteps got louder and a small figure rounded Jason’s doorway and stopped short. 

“Titus, what are you-” Jason rubbed at his ear, letting his other hand fall away from the dog when he turned his head toward Damian and wagged his tail. 

There was light shining through his window again. Jason always liked to be able to see the sky at night and he could sleep through the brightest sunrise so his curtains generally stayed open. Alfred must have done it when he’d made the bed.

The moon was bright enough, with the snow on the ground, that Jason could just make out the kid’s face.

He didn’t know what he expected but the wrinkle of concern between Damian’s brows made his breath stutter.

Titus planted his tongue right over Jason’s mouth when he opened it to say something, making him sputter and draw back again, wiping the back of his hand over his lips.

“Gross Titus.” He could hear the tremor still in his voice and swallowed against it, clearing his throat. Titus whined again, nosing at his cheek, ears down. Jason patted at his chest, feeling intensely self conscious with the kid standing there. “I’m alright,” he whispered. “Go back to bed.” He pushed at him a little, back toward Damian who still just stood there, not saying a word, not moving an inch.

He looked tense, eyes flicking back and forth between the dog and Jason.

“Are you hurt?” Damian suddenly blurted, loud in the silence of the room, not even lowering his voice. 

“What? No,” Jason whispered back.

“You are on the floor.” The little scowl on his face only deepened. Standing there ramrod straight, his eyes roamed Jason and the IV and then the dog. Jason cleared his throat.

“I’m fine. Just petting Titus.” He tried to sit up a little straighter but his shoulders felt heavy. Damian looked unconvinced, scowl deepening.

“I should retrieve Pennyworth.”

_“No,_ nope. I’m fine.” Jason, with more effort than it should take, pushed himself to his knees and then used the IV pole to drag himself fully to his feet. “See? I’m good.” 

Damian huffed a breath and rolled his eyes. “Sit down before you fall down, Todd.” Stepping forward, he pushed Jason toward the bed, wrapping a hand around the pole just below his, the other pressing on his bicep. Firm but careful, not too fast.

It was Jason’s turn to huff and roll his eyes then but he still let himself be pushed, shuffling back to the bed and sitting down. It was possible his head was pounding from the change in blood pressure. Titus followed him, and as soon as he was sitting rested his chin on Jason’s knee. He put a hand on the dog’s head, scratching behind his ears, taking a breath. 

It was good Damian was there, in the flesh, it helped with the blinking image in the back of his mind of that stupid cape, always so bright.

“What are you doing up?” Jason asked when the kid’s intense look was getting to him. He crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his chin up. 

“I am doing research for a case. Father has not been in the field since we returned.” Damian, somehow, didn’t seem upset about this and it surprised Jason but not as much as what he had actually said. “I went out with Grayson earlier tonight and I do not wish to leave him all the work when I can easily accomplish it without him.”

“He hasn’t?” Jason hated the way his voice was small and hated it even more when Damian looked at him with this unidentifiable expression, lips pressed thin. 

“He never does, when one of us is badly injured,” he said it like it was just a fact of life and Jason figured yeah, that made sense. But he wasn’t used to being included in the _us_ and he had no idea what to say back. 

Damian stood there, looking at Titus for a drawn out moment, head still a comfortable weight on Jason’s knee. 

“Would you like Titus to stay with you.” It didn’t sound like a question at all and it took Jason a moment to even understand what was being asked and when he did he was so surprised it took him a moment to respond.

“No, I-I’m fine.” He was definitely lying, but he wasn’t taking the kid’s dog away. Not when they’d just barely been back. “You should go to bed though.”

Damian frowned, arms tightening over his chest before he said, _“you_ should go to bed. I am not the one who recently almost died.” 

Jason huffed, looking down at Titus just to avoid the glare of a twelve year old. There was an awkward silence before Jason cleared his throat, glancing up at the kid. “I am planning on it, eventually.” If this moment lasted any longer Jason was liable to think he was still dreaming.

Damian scowled, and if Jason wasn’t mistaken, went a little red in the face. It was hard to tell in the dark of the room but he dropped his arms to his sides, hands in fists. _“Tt._ I was just leaving,” He spun on his heel, walking to the door. 

“Titus, come.” The dog lifted his head and turned to him standing in the doorway, dislodging Jason’s hand. He got up and moved toward Damian but looked back at Jason like he hoped he might follow. 

Damian paused where he stood, one hand on the doorframe. “Goodnight,” he offered, near silently. And then he was slipping back into the hallway, beyond where the light from Jason’s window reached. After a stretched pause, Titus followed after him, leaving the room empty but for Jason. 

He tried to go back to sleep. He truly did, but his head was buzzing now. Too many things shooting through it all at once, too many memories, too much of his dream. He remembered Tim, laying on the floor, looking at him with that flat expression, the sound of the gun. The low grade hum of the Pit under everything like the background noise from an old air conditioner. Damian, offering to let Titus stay with him for the rest of the night.

Jason should definitely go back to sleep.

Jason sucked in a deep breath and threw his blankets off.

It was pitch dark when he made it into the hall but even after years away he still had a perfect mental map of the manor. He could nearly count his steps to where he was going. Right turn, another corridor, left turn, another, up a flight of stairs. Dimly lit once more by a small window to the side, opening up to a wide landing, large double doors to his right. One was left propped open like it always had been when Jason lived there. 

The lights came on automatically when he walked in, though they were set to the lowest level, giving the whole place a dim glow. Enough to navigate by but not much else.

The library, as Jason had known it, had never changed. Though new books were added periodically, the shelves and furniture had stayed in the same places they’d always been.

Just being there was like wrapping a blanket around his shoulders. It always had been, even when him and Bruce had been completely at odds this room had been a comfort. There were memories associated with it that were painful still. Like coming in here with Bruce after a nightmare, being read to until he fell asleep again and then being carried back to bed.

Those one’s hurt, but for a constantly fluctuating reason. Sometimes he felt betrayed by them. Sometimes they were all he wanted. 

Now he didn’t know, it all just sort of hovered there, existing in the back of his mind, floating untethered to his feelings. He wandered down the aisles, one of the IV stand wheels squeaking softly where it rolled next to him, looking up at shelves three times his height. He remembered climbing them when no one was there to look for a new book instead of using one of the ladders. There was something very strange about walking through them at night, a hushed feeling of doing something that wasn’t allowed. He’d reveled in it as a kid, used to pretend that he broke into a book store after hours so he could have the whole place to himself.

He browsed the shelves idly, not sure if he intended to pick something and actually read for a while or just keep doing loops through the room, taking in the comfort of having so many stories at hand. So many safe places to escape to. 

At some point he found himself in the fantasy section, running his finger down different spines until he came to rest on one specific copy of a book he remembered with startling clarity. It was _Howl’s Moving Castle._

The thing was it wasn’t just any copy of the book. Jason recognized the faded and cracked spine, the small tear up the back from him leaving it open and face down to save his place. He slipped his finger over the top and began to tip it back when there was a noise by the door and he stopped.

There were quiet footsteps, interrupted suddenly by a stumble and then a man’s deep timbre, swearing softly under his breath, “damnit Alfred.”

Jason recognized Bruce’s voice instantly and froze where he stood, book half tipped out of the shelf. He was two rows in, completely out of sight of the door, and his brain scrambled for a way to get out without being seen. As soon as he started to pull his hand away from the shelf though, the book went with it, falling gracelessly down. Jason scrambled to catch it on reflex, paper and stiff binding flapping noisily before he managed to get it clutched in both hands, eyes squinting shut and shoulders drawn up to his ears in a silent grimace. 

There were no more footsteps but a second later the cat came trotting around the end of the aisle and Jason wasn’t surprised when Bruce followed on practiced, silent feet. 

Bruce however, did seem surprised. He stopped in his tracks and blinked at Jason with wide eyes that looked almost comical on his normally stony face before he managed to shutter his expression. 

“Jason,” he said in a hushed, flat tone. “I thought - I figured it was Damian. The cat finds him wherever he is.” Said cat happily approached Jason, rubbing the side of his body against his leg, winding around his feet and purring softly. Jason swallowed and awkwardly bent down, scratching at the cat’s head just for something to do that didn’t involve looking at Bruce.

Bruce took a few steps forward, no longer silent but quietly shuffling. “Trouble sleeping?” his voice was hesitant, like he was talking to a frightened animal and Jason reflexively stiffened before he finally stood back up and shrugged. Stared down at the book in his hands feeling like he’d swallowed his tongue. 

Somehow he had successfully managed to avoid being alone with Bruce since coming to the manor and now, standing here in the middle of the night holding one of his favorite books from childhood he knew exactly why. Because he had no idea what to say or do. Bruce may have had an inkling that things between them weren’t as simple as he’d tried to make them in the ten days they were gone, but he had no idea the scope of what had been going through Jason’s head. 

And Jason - he really didn’t want him to. In fact, he’d nearly died for how much he _really didn’t want him to._

But this was fine, he told himself, it wasn’t anything. Being in the same room with Bruce, alone, in the middle of the night didn’t mean they had to talk about anything important. Hell the Bruce Jason knew would never dream of bringing up anything _uncomfortable._ Only if one or both of them could be dying.

He tried not to wince.

When the silence dragged on long enough it was beginning to feel honestly stifling Jason finally gave in. “You?” He asked quietly, reaching up and gripping the IV pole, turning his face up and trying to affect something close to casual.

Bruce didn’t answer for a long moment, seeming hesitant. And When Jason really looked he could see deep circles under his eyes.

“It’s been a bit of a rough night, yes,” he finally said, glancing at the book in Jason’s hands. “What did you pick out?”

He looked back down at it, wondering if Bruce would recognize it the way Jason had. It wasn’t like he hadn’t dragged it around with him everywhere for days at a time. 

He could have said _‘nothing’_ and Bruce would probably have dropped it but for some reason he told him the truth instead. If Bruce remembered it he didn’t say, just nodded slowly.

They were standing like fifteen feet apart and it was almost funny except that it felt like a neutral zone. Bruce hadn’t brought up the unanswered messages, or phone calls, hadn’t made any reference to Jason nearly getting himself killed. If he crossed to the other side he didn’t know if that would stand or if Bruce would somehow take it as an invitation. It felt vaguely like navigating a minefield and - Jason’s track record with explosives was not great.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: singular violet nightmare that includes gun violence, and character death.
> 
> ___________________
> 
> And one more dream sequence lmao.
> 
> I hope there’s not too many mistakes. I’m so tired.
> 
> Sorry this chapter feels a bit like a placeholder, but I had to split it or this would have been like 17k words and that’s just too much lol. Only a few more chapters left of this installment...
> 
> Believe it or not that scene where Jason sees Bruce’s reflection in the blank tv screen was planned almost from the very beginning of this fic. IDK why I just really liked the image. Hope you enjoyed!!! 
> 
> Chapter title once again from All is Now Harmed by Ben Howard


	14. I was bruised and battered, and I couldn’t tell what I felt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason had to keep it together, but that was becoming harder and harder and of everyone in the house Bruce was the hardest to talk to. This wasn’t likely to go well for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings in end notes!!! There are a few.
> 
> —————-
> 
> You know what, I was gonna try to wait to post this chapter until at least Friday night because I’m only like 1k words into the next chapter and it’s gonna require a lot more rewriting than most previous ones have but like...I just got excited. I really like this chapter....I hope you all do too. Briefly - this starts off directly where the last chapter left off so you might want to just reread the last few sentences of the last chapter.
> 
> And lastly I love you guys for doing fanart you don’t even know 😭 check these beauties out:
> 
> [Dysplasia-girl](https://batbirdies.tumblr.com/post/612818438076989440/dysplasia-girl-when-i-m-bored-i-make-fan-art-of)
> 
> reggie2jayx3-blog

“I liked that one,” Bruce finally offered, standing there like a statue. Alfred purred insistently at Jason’s feet, rubbing his face against his sweats, leaving a slew of little white hairs behind. “Would you - um,” Bruce shifted his weight, face impassive, nostrils flaring, “would you like to read it?”

It was so awkwardly delivered Jason almost expected the man to pull off a mask and reveal some other person underneath. Because Bruce could be awkward, certainly, but only in _silence._

“I mean...I guess,” Jason hedged. He could take it back to his room, that would be an easy escape and if it left Bruce feeling like he’d offered him something that Jason accepted it might not be all bad.

Bruce cleared his throat though, stepping forward again. “I mean...I meant...together, if you-” He seemed to realize what was coming out of his mouth about halfway through and swallowed like he wished his tongue would go down with it. “Of course I didn’t mean to interrupt-”

“It’s fine,” Jason cut him off, palms feeling alarmingly sweaty all of a sudden. He took his hand off the IV pole, wiping it on his shirt before gripping it with even more force. It was a terrible idea. A monumentally stupid one. But there was this ridiculous pulsing in his chest that felt achey and warm and tender all at once. A phantom memory of a hand in his hair.

“We could. If you wanted.”

Bruce seemed frozen in place for an instant before he looked at Jason like he’d never seen him before. It made a flair of unease cut through the stupidly eager jumping in his chest but Bruce gave a quick nod. “Of course,” he said, like there was anything of course about any part of this. The man turned away from him, walking away without so much as a gesture. Jason rolled his eyes but knew where he’d be heading, to the reading area by the fireplace toward the front of the room, closest to the door.

There were a few lone chairs with tables and lamps strewn throughout the library if you wanted to be left alone. But, there was one grouping of a couch, two chairs, and a coffee table by the fireplace in case you felt like company. Jason always used to read there, happy if Bruce found him and offered to read to him, or if they just sat quietly in the same space, reading their own stories.

He found him there, fiddling with the fireplace. The cat followed him, trailing behind the IV pole. He took a seat on the couch without thinking before it even occurred to him that a chair might be a better idea, it was too late to change though, it would be too obvious, make it weird. Weirder than it already was anyway. He clasped the book in his lap and watched the cat jump up onto the coffee table, sitting and beginning to give itself an impromptu bath.

“Hn,” Bruce grunted from the fireplace, “there we go.” Flames suddenly licked up from the fake wood, a full on fire in an instant.

“That’s new,” Jason said before he could stop himself.

“Yes.” Bruce turned to face him, stepping over the edge of the large area rug and sitting on the other side of the couch, a single cushion between them. “I insisted on it when Alfred sprained his knee two years back, he couldn’t kneel to clean it. Of course, I volunteered to help but I spilled ash all over the rug and spent the next two weeks hearing snide comments about it.”

Jason huffed a laugh. “Sounds about right.” He didn’t know what he was doing.

There was more than one voice screaming in the back of his head that he shouldn’t be doing this.

It was even beyond all his issues with the Pit and everything that might mean for him. For his relationship with Bruce. Whether Jason wanted the man back in his life or not, it wasn’t just something they could slip back into. As much as Jason would have liked it to be that simple and easy, it never could be. There was too much there, too many things they’d swept under the rug on both sides without ever dealing with them.

He’d think Bruce was just a moron really, pretending for the sake of it because he thought he could just have Jason back the same way he was. Like because he wasn’t killing people anymore it meant he’d regressed back to the innocent boy Bruce had taken in.

He’d think it, except that Jason was eagerly playing along. It was that same frantic desperation that kept him from admitting any of the things he’d come to realize over the last few months. Because it wasn’t just the last ten days. Jason wasn’t stupid, all the signs had been there, he’d just been steadfastly ignoring them for as long as humanly possible.

It was the same tug at his heart that had him joining in on _family movie night._ Because he kept thinking, if this was the last he was gonna get he might as well enjoy it.

Bruce held out a hand and Jason almost jumped, forgetting he had the book tucked in his lap. He handed it over and watched Bruce carefully. Eyeing the way he inspected the cover. He still couldn’t tell if he recognized it.

“Start at the beginning or-?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Jason said as Bruce reached over and clicked on the lamp on his side of the couch. “I’ve read it a hundred times.”

Bruce nodded and opened to the first page.

It was really a good thing that Jason knew the story so well, because he didn’t listen to any of the words. As soon as Bruce started reading it was like he’d been transported back in time. He was caught up in the moment of it. He remembered being a kid and sitting on this same couch, listening to this same voice rumble softly through the words. It felt like a life he could have had, if things had been different. Like one he knew he’d never have again.

He couldn’t think about it, not really, so he just closed his eyes and listened, not caring what the words were. It was easily apparent that the infection was still taking its toll on him, even if it was mostly gone now. Because even after sleeping most of the day and night it was easy to fade out while Bruce was reading.

He let his head fall to the back of the couch, feeling the lulling warmth of the fire, the low constant of a deep voice and he let himself relax. It was a one time thing, and if everything went to hell the next morning or a week from then, he’d hold onto this moment. Even if it was just to remind himself that there could be pockets of good in the bad.

Even if it would feel like a lie months from then.

It might have been thirty minutes or an hour that he read with Jason fading in and out. He was so intensely relaxed that he didn’t have any idea how long it took him to realize that Bruce had stopped.

He blinked his eyes open, shifted his head just enough to see the man on the other side of the couch and found Bruce staring back at him. The book was closed and set on the side table next to him. His lips parted when he saw Jason looking but no words came out.

He felt a knot in his stomach that only grew tighter when Bruce didn’t speak. He swallowed, lifting his head off the back of the couch, feeling like the fragile moment couldn’t last. It was the movie all over again. The spell was running out, this was Jason’s midnight tolling of the bell. His chariot was gonna turn into a pumpkin any second.

Then Bruce closed his mouth for a moment, rubbed at the back of his neck. Jason remembered Tim saying, _he’s trying...and that counts for something, I think._

“Thank you, again, for watching Titus.” Jason blinked back at him, shifting in discomfort. It was about the fourth time Bruce had thanked him. He’d never found a good response.

Bruce sat forward a little, one hand gripping the front of the armrest. “Why...can I ask, why didn’t you tell anyone about the men at the dog park when it happened?”

Jason didn’t tense up, even though he wanted to, even though the memory of the Pit had the base of his skull throbbing like he’d called for it. He didn’t want to have this conversation but if he jumped up now Bruce would only think the worst. Not that there was much that could be worse.

“I...told Babs,” he hedged instead. Bruce looked at him with narrowed eyes though, seeing through the lie for what it was.

“Did you actually? Or did you just tell her about the dog fights?”

Jason didn’t answer, didn’t think he could find the perfect blend of words to change the subject and so he shrugged.

Bruce was all frown when he continued, “why not tell Damian? He asked after Titus multiple times a day.”

Jason sighed, trying not to read into the apparent concern in his voice. “I didn’t want to upset the kid,” he admitted, fiddling with a snagged thread in the upholstery of the couch. “I remember being him, tagging along on your trips. Didn’t want to get him all worked up over something he couldn’t do anything about anyway. Figured I’d let him enjoy the trip.”

Across the couch, Bruce stared at him, a long moment drawing out between them before he spoke.

“You’re good for him.”

Jason was so startled by the comment he couldn’t stop himself from looking up and making eye contact.

“He reminds me of you a lot. I think you could...I think you could be a good influence on him.”

“A good influence...” Jason half whispered. It was this, of all things, that threw the entire night off. He felt abruptly like someone had swapped Bruce for a body double, felt all the hard edges of his attitude shifting back into place. Because he didn’t - he didn’t _get it._ “Where is this coming from?”

And his voice was a little more confrontational than he meant it to be but really, what did Bruce expect from him?

“You’ve barely spoken to me in months and now _this?”_ He couldn’t stop the question from spilling out, one he’d been holding back since Bruce showed up on his doorstep with an angry pre-teen and a dog.

Bruce shifted again, turning his body to the side to better face Jason, giving him this steady look, eyes pinched like he was in pain. “Jay, I found you passed out in your living room with a fever so high you didn’t know where you were. You had vomited all over the floor. I thought - I thought you were going to die - again.” He voice cracked loudly on the last word and Jason couldn’t help but stare at him, wide eyed, at the way his eyes shone in the dim light with unshed tears.

So many things surged through Jason at once, panic tantamount among them, and he just - he stumbled to his feet. “I can’t do this,” he hissed, “I can’t fucking do this.” He made to leave, grabbed the IV pole to storm off but Bruce was faster, lurching across the couch and snagging his wrist in a firm grip.

“Jaylad wait-”

“Don’t fucking call me that,” Jason snarled, the hostility in his voice was so intense it cracked and Jason felt a lurch of anxiety. It was too much, it was more than him.

“Jason please-” Jason ripped his hand out of Bruce’s grip.

“I am not the kid that you buried!” It was loud enough to echo in the room and Jason nearly startled himself with it, the pounding in his head so intense it hurt. The cat bolted from the room and Bruce froze, drawing back slowly, “I am not the kid that you miss, ok? He’s gone, forever, you’re never getting him back so you can just give up on me already and let go of the fucking guilt.”

Bruce gripped the edge of the couch cushion, pried his hands away and slowly rose to his full height. He looked somewhere between sick and furious and this was bad, this was _bad._

“What the hell are you talking about?”

For the life of him, Jason couldn’t stop the flood of words, driven out in a rush of suppressed anger and hurt, amplified in tinges of green he couldn’t stamp out.

“You heard me,” he snapped, “the kid you miss is gone - I’m not him!”

Bruce just stared at him, face made of stone. “Of course you’re not him. Jason you were _fifteen.”_ His voice cracked again and Jason’s gut clenched, swirling up in a hurricane of jumbled emotion, but Bruce wasn’t finished.

“Dick’s not the same person he was then either, I am not the same person I was at fifteen.”

“That is not the same thing and you _know it!”_ He was insulted by the very suggestion and the Lazarus lurched in his chest at it, jaws snapping at empty air. He tried to take a deep breath.

He couldn’t lose it, he couldn’t let it control him, not like this, not ever. “You miss him, _not_ me.”

“Jason, _Jason_ you’re right. It’s not the same thing but it still applies.” Bruce stepped forward, hands out in front of him like he wanted to reach out. Jason slipped back another step. “I miss the kid Dick used to be too, you know. And Tim, when he was just starting out. Cass and Stephanie too, and I’ll miss Damian at this age when he’s older. But I still love them _now._

“Loving who you were does not erase how I feel about you _now Jay.”_

Jason flinched, jerking away when Bruce made another step forward, heart slamming against his ribs like it was trying to break out of a cage.

“You don’t even know me anymore!” He felt so hot under the skin and behind his eyes and there was a fury swelling up in him that he couldn’t name, couldn’t tell whether it was his own or something else and he _hated_ himself for feeling like this.

“But I _want to.”_ He stayed where he was, letting his hands fall and clench into fists at his sides, face tense, eyebrows drawn low over wounded eyes. “Jay, I’m _sorry,_ for everything. I know I’ve screwed up, but I’m trying - I’m trying to be better. I want you in my life. Just give me one more chance and I promise I won’t fuck it up.”

Jason tried to get a handle on his breathing. Tried to separate his real feelings from the exaggerated influence of the Lazarus but it was a hopeless tangle. And what even was he supposed to say back? What could he possibly say back to something he had wanted to hear for so long, that he told himself not to even hope for?

He screwed his eyes shut because it didn’t matter. It was all ruined anyway, the thumping of the pit in his ears was proof enough of that.

“You don’t get it,” he hissed, gripping the damn pole tight enough to creak.

“Then please Jay, explain it to me.” Bruce made an aborted movement forward, another stuttered reach that he drew back when Jason tensed.

“Oh, so you wanna talk _now?”_ Jason didn’t know what he was doing. Of all the times he had just wanted Bruce to _listen_ and here he was, offering, _apologizing,_ when Jason least wanted it. When he didn’t know if he could take it. It was all so screwed _up._ What right did he have anyway? After all the time he ignored Jason, made him feel like shit, manipulated him? Where did he get _off?_

His fingernails were digging into his palms, the dog bite was throbbing under the bandage and Jason’s train of thought stuttered, because - was that him? Was it _Jason_ or-? He couldn’t even tell anymore.

“Yes, I do.” Bruce held his palms face up, like he was offering evidence of his good intentions and irritation ground at Jason, his whole body felt like a nest of fire ants crawling over his skin.

“You can’t just start talking to me again and acting like everything’s fine you know. It’s bullshit,” Jason spat the last word, feeling a pulse run up his spine.

Bruce just looked pained. He was quiet for a long time and Jason tried to be patient, tried to suppress the scorching fire in his veins but the longer he looked at Bruce the more he couldn’t _stand this._

“I’m not - I know, Jason. I know everything is not fine. I know there’s a hundred things you’re angry with me for and you have every right to be-”

“Then what the fuck has this all been? The stupid texts and the pictures? The _books?_ You can’t just ignore everything and expect me to play along!” Jason threw a hand out to the side, movements spasmodic, uncontrolled.

“I was not ignoring-” For the first time in their conversation Bruce raised his voice and it set every alarm in Jason’s head ringing before Bruce cut himself off with a grunt. “That was not - my intention,” he spoke carefully, purposely quiet. His hands fell back into fists. He rolled his shoulders and the motion made Jason tense, like he was readying for a fight even though Bruce was _not._ He needed to _get a grip._

“Then _what are you doing?”_ He bit back, heart pounding so hard he could feel a vein jumping in his neck.

Bruce heaved a sigh, juddering on the way out, looked to the side and back again. “What would you have done, if I had come to you and said ‘I want to work out our issues Jay, let’s talk.’?” He turned his hands out in question, face pleading.

“I would have told you to _fuck off,_ like I want to right now.”

“Exactly.” Bruce finally took that step, closer into Jason’s space. He forced himself not to move, not to jolt back or surge forward like his body somehow wanted to. “I just wanted - I just figured. If we could start talking again, about the mundane, about things that didn’t matter, then maybe we could get there. To the things that do.

“I want to talk to you. I know I-“ He swallowed, throat clicking and finished in a whisper, “I’ve been a bad father.” Jason barely stopped himself from flinching, staring wide eyed at the man before him. The admission seemed to cost him, he took a deep breath and cleared his throat, blinking rapidly before he continued.

“I know you’re angry with me, if you need to yell at me, to explain to me every reason you’re upset - I understand. And I will listen and I will not say a word, and I will do _better._ Just please don’t leave Jay.”

Something wound around Jason’s heart just then. A thready sort of panic and something else that felt cold and angry and _suspicious._ This was everything Jason had been wanting to hear and it was not the Bruce he knew.

_“This isn’t you, this isn’t real.”_ He needed to get out of there, the panic shot through his head, cutting through the fog of everything else. It was like a flash of clarity, he was about to lose it. He was _so close._

Bruce looked wounded, like Jason had stabbed him and all that did was stoke the fire. He hated him.

_He didn’t though._ That flighty sort of panic hit him again, softer, easier to ignore.

“Just talk to me, please, explain it to me. What don’t I get?” He moved again, not stopping himself from reaching out to grasp at Jason’s bent elbow where he still gripped the IV pole.

The sensation of fingertips grazing his skin was like fireworks.

And that was it, that was all it took.

Every modicum of self control, every inkling of doubt in the poisonous, acidic feelings - _gone_ \- like a bug bursting on a windshield it was instant and nearly unnoticeable.

_“Don’t touch me!”_ He roared.

Bruce pulled back like he’d been burned and Jason didn’t _care._ His chest was heaving, burning, the Pit washed over him like a wave in the ocean. He picked up his IV pole and _swung it,_ right at Bruce’s head. The man ducked away, shock in his eyes quickly switching to concentration.

Jason felt the IV line snap in an absent way, the sharp, searing pain of the port tearing out of his arm felt dull and barely there. Jason threw the pole, hard enough to send it clattering into the nearest bookshelf.

“Shut up! Just-” Bruce was looking at him like he’d gone insane and Jason wanted nothing more than to wrap his hands around that fat neck and-

He gasped for breath, felt ice pouring over his head and shoulders and he spun way in one last lurching pull for control. There was fire in his veins and as soon as he turned away he went for the first thing he saw. He marched up to the fireplace and slammed his fist into the marble mantle.

There was so much anger in him, and there was so much _terror._ And somewhere in the very back of his mind where reason and logic were hiding he knew it was the Lazarus but that didn’t make it _stop._

_“AUUUUUGH!”_ His screams were incomprehensible even to himself and he slammed his fist into the stone again, felt something break in his hand and went to swing once more when suddenly there was an iron grip around his wrist.

“Jason!” An arm wrapped firmly around his chest, pulling him away from the mantle and Jason _bucked,_ slamming his head back, making solid contact with Bruce’s chin. The man grunted but didn’t loosen his grip. “You need to calm down!”

Jason reached his left hand back, scrambling, clawing, grazing skin with frantic, jolting movements.

_“LET ME GO!”_

“NOT UNTIL YOU CALM DOWN!” Bruce’s voice was deafening, spiking right into his ear and he couldn’t breathe. It felt like there was a dragon breathing down his neck, coming up his _throat._ He thrashed against Bruce, kicking back with bare feet. His movements were uncoordinated, clumsy, and even if he threw them with enough force to hurt he wasn’t escaping _Batman._ “Jason!”

Bruce sounded frantic, _frightened,_ and it didn’t help, it didn’t help, the Pit _wanted_ it. He swung his left arm back again, but Bruce shifted like lightning, grabbing his final, flailing arm and pulling it to his chest, hooking a leg around his ankles and yanking him sideways.

They went down hard, falling to the ground in a heap. There was a brief struggle before Bruce’s arms wrapped fully around his torso like iron bands, pinning his arms to his chest, a fist clenched around each wrist, legs twisted in his own. He was on his back, pressed tightly to Bruce’s chest, laying mostly on top of him. It was a fucking _safety hold._

“Let me up!” He pulled against the grip, shooting pain spiking up his left arm where it was pinned.

“You have to calm down.” Bruce’s voice was firm and steady. “I will let you up when I can trust you not to hurt yourself or me.”

He let out another indecipherable yell, trying to throw his head back into Bruce’s chin but he was prepared for it now and the back of his skull just ricocheted off his collar bone. It was still painful by Bruce’s grunt but not nearly as satisfying.

Jason couldn’t be still if he wanted it. His legs kicked out, slamming his heels into the carpet with whatever movement he could still exercise. The fire was right there, just a couple feet away from them and Jason had the horrible, fleeting image of plunging his hand into it, if he could just get _free._

“Jason, you’re having a panic attack - or, I don’t know. You need to breathe. Concentrate on slowing your heart beat, I know you know how.” Bruce’s voice was low but fast as he continued, “you can calm down, but you need to concentrate, listen to my breathing, feel my chest expanding and move with me.”

Bruce took a slow, deep breath and measured exhale. Jason barely heard it but Bruce kept going. “Come on, just breathe with me Jay, you’re upset, you’re worked up, but you _can_ calm down.”

The all encompassing hammering in his ears slowed just enough for Jason to suck in one deep breath.

“There we go, good, now just slow down.” His voice was soothing, like he was trying to coax a frightened animal out in the open and Jason threw in one last angry growl before the energy was gone all at once, out of him like his batteries had run dry.

“Just breathe with me.” Jason let his head fall back, dragged in another shuddering gulp of air, felt the expansion of Bruce’s chest under him in slow, steady pressure.

The Pit faded just as fast, pulsed hard and then went out like a flame. His mind felt like someone took a white board eraser to his thoughts. It was all he could manage then, to try to steady his breathing, get it under something close to control. Every initial one sounded frantic, halting and gasping until Bruce released his left arm.

It fell boneless to the side, like he’d lost all strength and Bruce put his hand on the side of Jason’s face, swiped a thumb just under his ear. Back and forth, steady and slow. “There you go, you’ve got it.” Soft and steady and slow.

“I’m - I’m ok.” He finally croaked out when he’d gotten four steady breaths.

Bruce didn’t move for a moment but finally seemed to decide Jason was telling the truth and released his other arm and legs, rolling them both to the side. Jason fumbled to his hands and knees and Bruce sat up and shifted to kneel next to him, planting one hand firmly on his back while he continued to breathe, and breathe, and breathe.

There was blood running down the inside of his right arm where the port had been and it hurt, throbbed gently in time with the dog bite and the now slowing beat of his heart.

“Can you stand?” Bruce asked. Jason flinched at the sound but jerked a nod in response, managed somehow to lumber to his feet and let Bruce guide him back to the couch. He fell more than sat on the cushions, sagging back and letting his arms rest across his stomach.

Bruce stood there, looking down at him and Jason couldn’t bring himself to look up because the only feeling that was filtering back in was a slow, climbing shame.

“Your arm,” Bruce said, hands twitching at his sides. Jason looked down at it, at the blood still leaking sluggishly all over his clothes, all over the rug and probably the couch now too, Bruce’s clothes.

“It’s fine,” Jason croaked back, pressing his left hand into the crook of his elbow, putting pressure on the wound, blood wet against his fingers . Something crunched in his knuckles, bone shards grinding together with a spike of pain. They were already swelling.

“Hn,” Bruce made an unhappy sound, stood there another minute like he was deliberating what to do and then unceremoniously reached down and tore a long chunk off the hem off his t-shirt.

“What-” Jason made to sit up but Bruce kneeled down and reached for him, hesitated just above his wrist and Jason’s whole face flushed before he offered it, laying it face up in Bruce’s hand. He was trembling, slightly, as Bruce guided it forward, straightening it over his knee and wrapping the fabric around the wound.

He didn’t clean it, obviously. There was no peroxide, no gauze, no medical tape, he just tied a neat little knot behind his elbow, keeping the flat of the fabric over the tear in his skin.

“Tell me if it’s too tight.”

Jason just shook his head, finally forcing a glance up, just to see his face.

His chin was red, probably gonna bruise in the morning, and there were smears of blood on the left side of his face from where Jason had swiped at him. He was looking at the impromptu bandage, pulling it flat where the fabric bunched, and then he just stayed there, hands gently cupping Jason’s elbow and staring at the blood down his arm and over his hands.

Jason swallowed wetly and closed his eyes.

What if it had been Tim or Damian? God what if it had been _Alfred?_

“I’m sorry.”

It was a whisper, barely loud enough to hear but Jason had to say it, even if it was meaningless and stupid and would never be nearly _enough._

“It’s alright.”

Jason’s eyes snapped open, looking at Bruce incredulously. The man stared back at him, eyes searching, mouth a flat line, brows creased in what was obviously concern and Jason snapped at him, feeling worn and raw and completely fucked.

“It’s not alright!”

Bruce didn’t flinch but his eyes flicked over Jason’s face in mounting worry and Jason couldn’t handle it. He sat up, shifted forward, pulling his arm away from Bruce. Who, instead of standing up just pulled back, still kneeling on the ground in front of him.

“Jay, it’s ok.”

“It’s not-”

“It was a panic attack-”

“It was not a panic attack!” Jason dragged in a heaving breath and planted his face in his hands, unable to look at Bruce for this.

He knew everything would go to hell but somehow he didn’t think it would happen so spectacularly. He was dreading it, dreading every part of this but he kept thinking of that horrific dream, and being here, and what if he’d hurt somebody for real? What if it had been Alfred?

Jason was lucky it was Bruce, knew that even if the man could never look at him the same again at least he could stop him, when it came down to it.

“It wasn’t a panic attack Bruce.” He pressed his fingers into his eyelids, watching the color explode into static.

He felt a hand, feather light, on his knee. “What’s going on Jay?” It was the gentle concern in his voice that finally tipped the scale.

It all came rushing up out of him like vomit.

“It’s the _Pit_ Bruce. It’s the fucking Pit. Something’s wrong, I can’t - it keeps - ever since I stopped - _killing_ \- it’s like it’s _hungry_ and I’m not - I’m _losing._ I’m losing and I can’t do that. I can’t lose _everything again.”_ The last word came out on a sob, muffled into the heels of his hands.

There was a hushed silence, only broken by Jason’s harsh breathing, the feeling of the hand on his knee didn’t leave.

“Jay-” Bruce’s voice was quiet and Jason’s head snapped up, a rush of primal fear surging through him. Bruce was looking at him with such deep concern that Jason couldn’t stop from spilling more, pushing everything out. If he was going to ruin things he needed it over with.

“You wanna know why I was ignoring your messages? Because I almost fucking killed a guy! Might as well have!” He spit the words like they would somehow save him, be sharp enough to drive off whatever reproach was waiting. “And I didn’t- I didn’t _know_ it was like - it was like I was a different person and I couldn’t even - I couldn’t even _tell_ until it was over! And it keeps happening, anytime I’m upset, it’s there, and even when I’m not I can feel it now, I can feel it all the time. And I thought, I thought I could get it under control but it’s just getting _worse._

“I’m almost out of money and I can’t go out- I can’t get more when I’m _like this._ And I’m nobody! I’m nobody without Red Hood.”

His voice was wrecked, dragged-over-concrete rough and wet and there were heavy, fat teardrops carving down his face. He looked anywhere but at Bruce, staring at the hand still resting on his leg, waiting for him to retreat, to find out Bruce had been waiting for something like this to happen, that he had some damn cage in the batcave ready for him, to keep him locked away from all the normal people while he slowly lost his mind.

The hand on his leg drew back and Jason squeezed his eyes closed, pushing more stupid tears out. He had to get it together, he didn’t want to be a blubbering mess for this. But when he reached up to wipe his face Bruce’s hand got in the way, where it moved to cup his cheek, thumb brushing away the tears as they came.

“Jay, Sweetheart, look at me please.”

Jason let out a low, strangled noise, barely managing to shake his head against Bruce’s hand.

“Jay.” Another hand pressed on the other side of his face, gently tilting his chin up. Right up until he was forced to stare at the ceiling to avoid Bruce’s gaze, his hands clenched in the soft material of his sweats.

Bruce didn’t speak. He waited, holding Jason’s face in his hands and gently wiping away his tears that showed no signs of slowing until he sucked in a gasping breath and finally caved. He looked into dark, fierce blue eyes.

“Thank you for for telling me.” Bruce’s voice was low and rough, barely above a whisper. “We will figure this out.” Jason’s heart jumped in his chest but he resisted, trying in vain to pull back, but Bruce held on.

“There’s nothing to figure _out._ I _know_ why this is happening, and sometimes I can’t tell anymore what’s me and what’s the Pit and I _can’t. Bruce I can’t-”_ He choked, a wet strangled noise coming up from his chest.

“We will figure it out.” Bruce said, strong and steady, hands holding him in place, eyes dark and intense.

“You don’t get it!” Jason finally jerked back, wiping his broken fist over his cheeks and sniffing hard. Bruce didn’t try to grab him again, just planted both hands on either side of his knees, framing him in and gripping the edge of the couch.

“I know. I know I don’t, but listen to me. You were able to calm down, just now. You got a handle on it, you barely grazed me Jay, I’m fine.”

“Only because it was you!” He felt like a little kid, Bruce crouching down in front of him, making him look at him, making him talk, looking at him like he was - like he was sad, about what Jason was saying.

“Then I’ll be here. I will be with you, and we will figure it out.”

“Shut up,” Jason croaked, but it was barely audible, his mouth trembling in the effort to suppress his tears, digging his fingers into his legs and staring at his cracked and bleeding knuckles, throat working to hold in a sob.

“We will not let it win. And the money, Jay, of course you don’t need to worry about that.” And then, a little angrily. “And you are not nobody, do you hear me?”

_“Bruce.”_ His voice was small and wavering and it was all he could do to tip forward, intent on nothing more than hiding his face in his knees. But Bruce rose to meet him, intercepting the fall and guiding Jason’s head to his shoulder, gripping the back of his neck, fingers splayed in his hair. He felt like every knot of thread that had been holding him together was unspooling, like all his stuffing was bleeding out onto the floor.

“It’ll be ok, Jaylad.” Bruce whispered it, and Jason said the one thing that had been lurking around inside him for as long as he could remember. The one thing he hated the most about himself.

“I’m scared.” It was a barely there gasp of breath, thin and trembling and Bruce made a low, pained noise, fingers tensing in Jason’s hair before he pulled himself back and up from the floor only to drop into the seat next to him and drag him into his arms.

“It’ll be ok. We’ll work on it, you’re gonna be ok Sweetheart.” His voice was choked, pressed into his temple and Jason registered in a blank sort of way, his face pressed to Bruce’s shoulder, that no one had called him that since he’d died.

None of it was anything like what Jason expected. It wasn’t even close to all the scenarios his brain had worked up to prepare himself for the inevitable let down. It was the sort of reaction he wouldn’t even let himself dream of. It was all Jason had wanted since he came screaming out of that Pit and planted a bomb on the batmobile. It was too much.

It was everything.

The wail that tore out of Jason’s chest was the kind he only ever voiced in his worst nightmares. It was agony, flooding out of him. It was relief and heartache and fear and he couldn’t hold it back anymore. He was torn at the seams, he was _sobbing._ And Bruce just held him, arms tight around him, one hand buried in his hair, pressing him close, the other wrapped around his quaking shoulders. Just holding him. Jason’s hands were clenched in Bruce’s shirt, pulling tight enough to tear it even more but he felt like he was shaking apart, like the only thing keeping his limbs attached to his body were Bruce’s arms around him.

His chest heaved so hard it hurt and he found himself gibbering nonsense, half formed apologies for he didn’t even know what.

“I-I’m s-sor-ry.”

“Shhh, it’s ok, it’s ok.” Bruce’s voice was strangled, “it’ll be ok, I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

It felt like hours that he was sobbing into Bruce’s shoulder even if it could only have been minutes. Minutes of gasping choked off breaths until his throat and lungs both felt half crushed, until his tears slowly drained and he was just leaning against him, limp, sniffling, and shivering in waves. He felt cold all over.

Bruce took slow, even breaths, rubbing his hand up and down the full bow of Jason’s back. He thought, at one point, they’d probably gotten blood all over the room.

It wasn’t until Jason pulled back that Bruce made any hint of moving, opening his arms just enough to let him.

“I’m ok,” Jason rasped, suddenly embarrassed, swiping a hand over his face. Part of him knew that Bruce wasn’t judging him but he felt so tender and sore he couldn’t help trying to pull back together some form of composure. A shiver racked through his shoulders and he wrapped his arms around his stomach, feeling like he was holding in his guts.

Bruce’s hands still held his shoulders and he stared at him for a long moment, eyes roaming him up and down, serious and contemplating.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, hm?” He finally asked, soft and gentle. Jason swallowed.

“I-I can do it. Just need a shower and-”

“Hush.” Bruce squeezed his shoulders. “I have some first aide supplies in my bathroom. You can take a shower and then I’ll handle it.”

Jason thought he should probably resist, but found himself too exhausted. He just nodded and stood on shaky knees to follow Bruce out of the library.

He couldn’t remember the last time he was in Bruce’s room and it was surreal how much it hadn’t changed when Bruce flicked on the light. The only thing that seemed vaguely out of place were the obviously rumpled sheets, thrown half across the bed from when he’d at least attempted sleep earlier in the night.

Bruce went ahead of him into the bathroom without a word, leaving Jason standing in the doorway to watch him. He dug a towel out of the cabinet by the door and set it on the counter by the sink, then he turned on the shower head and held is hand under the water, eyes turned down as if he was deep in concentration. Jason looked on, a little numb.

“Bruce.”

He glanced up, eyes like a hawk on Jason instantly. “I can handle setting the water temp.”

Bruce blinked, looking back at the shower as if he just registered what he was doing. He dropped his hand out of the water and took a step back. “Of course, I...” he swallowed, “I’ll grab you something to change into.”

Jason shuffled in after him, eyeing the bottles on the counter as Bruce ducked out. He glanced at the mirror and had to do a double take. It was no wonder Bruce was running around like Jason might fall over dead at any moment. There was blood smeared all over his face, especially around his eyes and mouth, a thick streak across his forehead, a brown tint through the white streak in his hair.

He jumped when Bruce came back in the room with a stack of pajamas, turning abruptly to face him and suddenly self conscious of the blood everywhere.

Bruce laid the clothes on top of the towel already on the counter. He walked back to the door and hesitated, hovering just inside the room. He turned back to Jason, eyes intense, flitting over him quickly like he thought Jason wouldn’t notice.

“Use whatever you like...I’ll be right outside, if you need anything.”

Jason swallowed, feeling awkward. He rubbed his hands on his pants and gave a short nod. Another ten seconds of awkward hovering and Bruce gave a nod of his own and finally ducked out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

At first all Jason could do was stand there, staring at his feet and Bruce’s shining marble floors. But he was still freezing and the thought of the hot water pushed him to finally strip. The knuckles on his right hand were already swelling, giving them a comical, cartoony sort of shape. The skin split and was scabbing over but still wet. He fumbled briefly at the t-shirt bandage around his elbow before he just tugged it down until it was loose enough to slip off over his hand and throw in the trash.

Jason was still surprised, even after catching sight of himself, how much blood rinsed away while he stood under the spray of the shower, watching the orange tinted water drain out of the tub. He let it run over his face, holding his breath and closing his eyes as he turned the water hot enough to sting.

The shower was too long. Though Jason had no idea _how_ long. He scrubbed his hair with some fancy shampoo that smelled like cologne, hissing when it stung the cuts on his knuckles. Then he lathered his entire body with old fashioned bar soap, being careful of the waterproof bandage over the bite and the stinging cut where the IV had been. It was the kind of soap that Alfred bought for himself but that Bruce would pilfer. It just smelled clean, the sharp scent of it was probably the only thing that kept Jason awake. It was definitely too long, long enough that his fingers and palms went pruny with water and he’d long since been rinsed clean. It wasn’t until he was just standing under the hot water, blinking his eyes open with concerted effort that he finally turned it off and grabbed the towel on the vanity.

Putting Bruce’s pajama’s on felt weird, because they basically fit him. They were only a little long, and the t-shirt’s shoulders were just slightly too wide. Jason remembered being so small, barely coming up to Bruce’s chest, how huge the man used to seem to him. Now they were nearly eye to eye. It was jarring sometimes to _Jason._ He wondered what it was like for Bruce.

When he opened the door to the bedroom, after standing in front of it like the knob was gonna bite him if he touched it, he found the man sitting on the edge of his bed. Feet planted on the ground and hunched over, face in his hands. Jason felt a sharp pang of guilt at being the reason he was still awake, he was obviously exhausted. Just like Jason. And here he was demanding even more attention.

But Bruce snapped up straight nearly as soon as Jason saw him, standing from the bed like he’d set off some kind of alarm. Bruce looked him up and down like he was searching for other hidden injuries and Jason just stood there awkwardly under his scrutiny.

“Really, I can take care of it myself,” he finally said, voice rasping like he’d been smoking.

“No, no. Not with your hand like that. Come on, I’ll do it.” And so he joined Jason in the room again, gestured for him to sit on the edge of the tub while he dug under the sink, pulling out one thing after another. Hydrogen peroxide, cotton balls, a roll of bandages, antibacterial ointment, some more antibiotics, Another waterproof bandage.

First thing he did was fill a glass with water from the tap and shake a capsule out into his hands. “Here. Take this, we won’t be able to get you back on IV without going down to the cave and I’d rather not tonight. You’re not due for the ceftriaxone until the morning but until your blood cultures come back I want you on this one.”

Jason didn’t ask what it was when he took it from Bruce, downing it without protest.

“You were close enough to being off the IV Alfred may give you the all clear to transition to oral antibiotics in the morning. We’ll have to ask. At any rate I don’t think you need the saline drip anymore.”

“You suddenly a doctor?” Jason blurted, unable to think of anything worth saying and falling back on old habits. He could feel his face go pink though when Bruce leveled him with a _look._

“I’ve been over your treatment with Alfred. Thoroughly.”

With that Bruce took a deep breath and his focus changed to Jason’s now multiple injuries.

He washed his hands first, then sat down on the closed toilet just across from him and reached first for his left arm. Jason supplied it without protest, feeling like his bones were made of lead. Bruce gingerly peeled away the old bandage and dropped it in the trash and gave a short inspection of the wound. Jason hadn’t gotten to look at it since he’d been in the manor but he felt something like relief when he saw it now. There were neat stitches where before there had been torn and abraded skin, stretched tight and extremely tender but a healthy, pale pink with no hint of inflammation. Bruce very carefully dabbed over the stitches with antibacterial ointment on the tip of his index finger and covered the whole thing with another waterproof bandage.

Then came the torn skin at his inner right elbow. He dabbed it with hydrogen peroxide, which burned, but not as bad as he expected. Jason eyed the angry red skin around the cut and knew from experience that it was going to bruise and look awful the next morning. Bruce planted a dry cotton ball directly on the wound where a large, dark scab was barely formed. Then he taped it down with a stretch bandage wrapped fully around his elbow.

Next were his knuckles. There was significantly more damage there, torn and swollen skin, and Bruce tilted his fingers open and closed slowly, feeling for any drag or difficulty in movement. He glanced up and met Jason’s eyes briefly. “Does it feel like anything’s broken?”

Jason hedged, “don’t think so...” The answer was maybe, but he didn’t think it was too terrible and if he could get away without being hauled down to the cave like Bruce also seemed to want to avoid then he would. A cast on his hand was the last thing he needed and Jason was sure he could get by without one while whatever was wrong healed.

“Hn,” Bruce gave an unhappy noise when he looked back down, leaned over with his elbows resting on his knees. He was gentle, eyes serious and full of concentration as he worked. It reminded Jason of patrols from years before, when they’d gotten back in and Bruce had insisted on taking care of all of his bumps and bruises instead of Alfred. It kind of made him want to leave, immediately.

But he sat there, still as a statue instead and let Bruce work. There was still blood smeared across his cheek in recognizable, macabre, little fingerprints.

“You still...” Jason blurted out. Bruce looked up at him quickly, as if he was waiting for an emergency or some vital information but Jason just pointed to his cheek and said, “blood,” like the bookworm articulate he was.

“Hn,” Bruce grunted again, dismissive. He looked back down. “I’ll clean it later.”

He kept dabbing away at Jason’s knuckles, like he was trying to soak up the injury itself, carefully swiping peroxide over mangled skin before he finally tossed the cotton balls in the trash and switched it for antibacterial cream. It got a similarly thorough but gentle treatment. Bruce’s hands were warm and dry and Jason remembered that too, from when he was small, getting patched up.

Bruce expertly covered his knuckles in gauze and wrapped it all in a thin but sturdy bandage. Jason’s face burned at the memory while Bruce tugged the fabric flat, fussing with it in an almost compulsive way.

When Jason glanced up at Bruce’s face he looked to be deep in thought and Jason breathed carefully, so his body wouldn’t move because he didn’t want to disrupt it. Whatever was building inside of him.

Finally his hands stopped and he sat there, holding Jason’s bandaged one in both of his own, completely still.

“I...” Bruce’s voice in the silence of the bathroom was almost startling enough to make him flinch. His face tensed, drawing in at the edges where his brows pulled down and his eyes squinted, mouth a pressed thin line. Jason watched his Adam’s apple bob for a moment. He was obviously planning on saying something, but the quiet dragged on for so long Jason started to resign himself to it. Started to think he should just pull his hand out of Bruce’s grip and end the awkward moment before it got any worse when Bruce finally spoke up.

“I love you.”

The words were low, and gravelly, almost with the Batman inflection and this - this did make Jason flinch, and then flush deeply. His stomach flipped over like he’d reached the top of some stupid amusement park ride.

Bruce noticed of course, and he frowned, both hands still cradling Jason’s injured one, still staring down at it. “More than you can know.”

Jason swallowed but Bruce didn’t stop there. His voice was just as deep and gravelly as he went on. “I know things are complicated between us. I know that - I’ve hurt you, in the past, and you telling me what’s been going on doesn’t mean that it’s all fixed. But I’m glad you told me. I want to help you, and to - to mend things between us. To work on them.”

Without warning Jason felt tears pricking at his eyes all over again. He just barely managed to give a jerky nod in response, sniffling and wiping his uninjured wrist under his nose. He should have said something back, anything but it was like every word he’d ever known was out of reach.

Bruce finally released his hand, eyes flicking to his face as he reached up and cupped Jason’s cheek, brushing his thumb just under his eye, making him blink. And then he abruptly leaned back and dropped both his hands to his lap.

“I want you to try to get some sleep, and we’ll start working on this tomorrow.”

Jason swallowed, stomach dropping at the very thought of facing this, for what it was, for real. But it was tempered by the idea that Bruce would be there. Bruce would take charge, he’d handle things, he would give Jason direction, something to focus on. Just like he did way back when Jason was just a kid and he didn’t know what to do with all his anger at the world.

“Ok,” he finally offered, forcing himself to his feet before the sensation of concrete drying in his veins had a chance to set in. Bruce stood with him, followed him out of the bathroom and all the way to the bedroom door. Probably would have kept on with him as he headed out into the hall, back down to the guest room they’d set him up in. Jason knew he needed to go, that he needed to sleep almost as much as he ever had but he hesitated in the doorway, nerves crawling up over his shoulders. The Pit was there when he cautiously reached out for it, thrumming on steadily like always and it was just-

“Jason?” Bruce’s hand hovered over his shoulder, like he was afraid of what would happen if he touched him right at that moment. Jason let out a deep, heavy breath while he stared at the doorknob like somehow it would help him.

“I had this dream, where I-” He swallowed, breathing hard again, “I hurt- I hurt Tim, and Damian-” His voice shook the smallest amount and he tried to clear his throat of it but it just felt thick and uncomfortable. Bruce’s hand settle then, on his shoulder, gentle, “I can still feel it, right now I-”

The hand shifted to his elbow, tugging him close before wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pressing a kiss to his temple. He turned them both around and Jason went easily, like a puppet on strings.

“Stay with me. I’ll make sure nothing happens.” And Jason thought he was done with crying but it all felt so close to the surface and there was so much relief in what Bruce was offering. He rubbed at his eyes like a little kid, screwing the heels of both hands into his eyelids with another harsh sniffle and he nodded. Bruce pushed him toward the bed.

“Get in, I’ll be right there.”

He disappeared back into the bathroom and Jason stared at the massive bed for a brief moment before crawling on top of it and flopping down face first. the pillow smelled like the same detergent that all the sheets in the manor smelled like, mixed with the faintest scent of leather and Kevlar. Bruce the way Jason had always remembered it. They all showered after patrols unless they were badly injured or in danger of passing out under the water, but even so they weren’t always enough to destroy the heavy scents of layers of leather and body armor. Your skin soaked them up.

Jason used to have nightmares as a kid, relatively often.

Not as much as he did now, pathetically enough, but often. Going to Bruce about them had been a fight he’d warred with himself for months before he finally took his first steps into the man’s room after dark. It was only because of Alfred he’d even considered it, when the man noticed how tired he seemed and quietly tried to push him in the right direction.

Jason had been beyond nervous the first time, waiting to be turned away and sent back to bed with a scowl and a sarcastic comment about crying and nightmares being for little girls. The words were familiar enough before he’d learned how to deal with the dreams and everything to go with them on his own. But Bruce had been telling him, over and over, that he didn’t have to deal with things on his own.

In the end he’d stood on the other side of the door just staring at it long enough that his toes went cold before he’d managed to work up enough anger at himself to just stop stalling and make a move. He’d thrown open the door with enough force to bounce it off the door jam and send Bruce shooting up in bed with Batman’s scowl on his face.

Bruce had been startled and prepared for an emergency. But faced with his guardian looking like that, when he already had nerves crawling under his skin and memory after memory telling him this was a bad idea, after startling the man awake, every life preserving instinct in Jason had told him to run.

And so he had, turned heel and gone pounding down the dark hall with Bruce shouting after him. He caught up to him before he reached the stairs thankfully or Jason knew he probably would have fallen face first in his panic.

_“Jason, Jason stop, what’s happened, what’s wrong?”_

_“N-nothing, I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”_

_“It’s alright, shh, Jaybird calm down. It’s ok, will you tell me what’s wrong please?”_

_“Nothing! It’s nothing. I’ll go back to bed.”_

Bruce had practically had to pry it out of him, then drag him back to his room with an arm wrapped around his shoulders telling him it was ok, it was fine, he was glad Jason woke him up, he wasn’t angry.

He’d never felt more like that little kid in his life.

It was enough to make his chest hurt.

A shiver wracked through him and he finally rolled over and tugged the blankets loose from under him, slipping into the sheets and staring up at the ceiling. His hair was still wet and he maybe didn’t dry off as well as he should have before he put the pajama’s on. Jason was so exhausted.

The shower shut off in the bathroom, though he didn’t remember hearing it start up. A minute later the door opened and Bruce stood there wearing a t-shirt, minus the torn hem, his hair damp and messy and his face clean of blood smears. He flicked the bathroom light off and Jason watched his silhouette move through the room and slip into the bed without hesitation.

He settled in, propped up on his pillows and reached for something on his nightstand. “Would you...” he started in a soft voice, clearing his throat in the middle, “like me to read something?”

Jason exhaled and nodded. “Sure,” he whispered back, feeling relieved all together because despite how tired he felt there were a thousand different things running through his mind and he wasn’t sure he’d actually be able to sleep. Not without something to help it along. So Bruce reached over and switched on a lamp on its dim setting, took a deep breath through his nose and began to read in a low, steady tone.

He was only a few sentences in and Jason shivered again, trying to tug the blanket a little higher. But Bruce’s voice paused and when Jason glanced over he was looking at him.

“I’m fi-“ he started to say, before Bruce let go of the book with his left hand and raised his arm out, leaving a space, a wordless invitation. Jason stared at it for a drawn out moment, mind totally blank. Until he looked at Bruce’s face and could see the little crease between his eyebrows and the flare of his nostril’s in the glow of the lamp. He was nervous.

Jason pushed himself, awkwardly, on his elbows, trying to avoid grazing or putting pressure on his now multiple wounds and shuffled over the mattress. It was a huge bed, and it was a few feet of space he had to traverse, bunching up the blankets awkwardly until he finally was tucked under Bruce’s arm and he let it drape around him.

Jason settled into his side, head resting on Bruce’s shoulder with a flighty sort of feeling in his stomach, almost like he wanted to laugh, or probably cry. Bruce brought his hand up and brushed it through his damp hair, snagging on his ear once and making him twitch. Then he rested his cheek on the crown of Jason’s head and took a deep breath through his nose. Jason felt the little gust of his exhale.

“Better?” He asked in a whisper, hand still carding through his hair. Jason let out a ghost of a breath and closed his eyes.

“Yeah.”

Bruce gave a low hum and started reading again, in the same, soft tone Jason remembered. The one that always used to put him to sleep.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: Loss of self control, something similar to an extreme panic attack, some brief violence, what could be considered deliberate self harm and a brief desire/fantasy to/of self harm, a character being put in a “safety hold” in which they cannot move beyond the bare minimum - this is also brief. —-most of this is pretty vague, if you would like a better description before reading just hit me up.
> 
> ________
> 
> 10/27/20 - FIRST OFF PLEASE LOOK AT THAT AMAZING GIF!!! By the WONDERFUL [Kuna-Mart](https://kuna-mart.tumblr.com/)
> 
> So.....there you have it! I know this is the chapter you were all waiting for so, lol, here you go!!! We finally made it!!! Not that this is the end. It’s not. I plan at least two more chapters of this installment, and as mentioned, I am planning a continuation. But we are finally, blessedly in a place where Jason can begin to accept comfort and help<3 
> 
> I do make a special request. I‘M SENSITIVE guys. And I tried really hard on this chapter and worked on this for months to get to this point and it’s my fav chapter of the whole damn fic so please, do not leave criticism in the comments. If this wasn’t the climax you were hoping/waiting for I’m sorry, but please don’t let me know. I wrote what I wanted to read and if it wasn’t what _you_ were looking for then sorry, I guess you’ll have to find another fic to read. Please don’t put a downer on my happy moment!
> 
> That being said....my state is going on a two week lockdown starting today so I will be at home....a lot. Idk how quickly the next chapter will come out because I’m going to be drafting a lot of it from scratch rather than just rewriting what I already drafted previously, but I will certainly have a lot of time to work on it. (That being said my roommate will also be home just as much and she is insanely chatty so we’ll see how that goes) 
> 
> Also here’s my [tumblr](https://batbirdies.tumblr.com) Again if you wanna bug me.


	15. will I run or stand my ground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason faces the morning after his breakdown. He doesn’t know what he expected, but this wasn’t it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m back!!!!!
> 
> As always, warnings in end notes!

**PART TWO**

  
  


Jason woke up sometime mid morning to the sun coming through the curtains and a warm room. 

He blinked his eyes open to the world, took a deep breath, and stared at the ceiling. It took a minute for everything to come back to him but as soon as it did he felt heat rise in his face and his stomach flip in a somersault. He swallowed against a dry throat and slowly, carefully shifted until he was propped up on his elbows.

The bed was empty but the bathroom door was closed and when Jason listened he could hear soft noises from inside. The faucet turning on and off, an electric toothbrush whirring away. He sat up fully and ran a hand through his sleep mussed hair and stared blankly at the bandages on his right hand, feeling a weird sort of numbness buzzing under his skin. He was glad Bruce was in the bathroom because he needed...a minute.

Or a month.

Despite the few hours of sleep he’d managed after his and Bruce’s... _conversation,_ he still felt exhausted and worn down. He didn’t think it was the infection either. Planting his face in his hands for a moment, he took another careful, slow breath.

His mind felt empty. Cleaned out, with nothing but white noise left behind. 

The Pit was still there. Something he could ignore if he wanted right then but that he couldn’t seem to stop compulsively feeling for anyway.

He had to stop that. He knew it wasn’t helping, it just made his anxiety spike and then the cycle repeated itself. 

God he needed to get out of his own head.

“Jason?”

He startled, unsure how long he’d been hunched over his folded legs, and sat up, blinking. 

“Are you alright?” Bruce stood just a few feet away from the bed, arms hanging limply at his sides and face blank, eyes darting over Jason’s bowed shoulders. 

“Yeah,” he rasped back before he cleared his throat and thumped gently at his chest. “I’m fine.” He swallowed, uncomfortable and carefully avoided eye contact. Bruce stood there for a moment, looking at him in a way that made Jason’s whole body go stiff with anxiety. 

He knew things had gone better than he could have imagined the night before, all things considered. But now it was morning. There was a dark, bluish-purple bruise standing out on Bruce’s chin and the light of day could change a lot of things.

Bruce moved forward, around the bed until he came to Jason’s side; then he raised a hand. He held himself still as stone and Bruce paused, giving him an intent look.

“I’m going to check your temperature.”

Jason blinked. “Right, yeah.” He couldn’t relax, but he managed not to flinch as Bruce pressed the back of his hand to his forehead, eyes going distant as he stared off at nothing. 

He hummed softly after a moment before he removed his hand. “It feels normal.” He stooped just a little, leaning down so he could get a clear look at Jason’s face. “You look better.”

“Yeah, I uh, I feel better...than yesterday.” The inside of his right elbow was sore, along with his knuckles and he knew the wound would be tender, but it didn’t throb or ache like before.

“Good.” Then Bruce reached up again, with both hands, gently tilted Jason’s head forward and planted a kiss on his crown. The tension held in his shoulders bled out all at once and Jason sagged right into him, forehead bumping into his breastbone. He closed his eyes against an uncomfortable pressure and took a shuddering breath, feeling embarrassed and stupid.

Bruce settled his hands on either side of his neck, thumbs stroking though his hair.

“Sorry - I don’t know why-“

“Shh Jay, it’s fine. You’re fine.” He shifted his hands down and rubbed at Jason’s arms and didn’t step away. Not until he stuffed down every swirling, aching thing inside of him and sat back, swiping at his face. Then Bruce held him by the shoulders for a moment.

“Remember what I said. We’re going to figure this out. It’s one step at a time, that’s all.”

Jason nodded, blinking and feeling a little light headed. Part of him had felt like the night before must have been a dream and he still wasn’t really sure what to think or feel. It was slowly solidifying, like the ground beneath his feet, and he suddenly didn’t know how to act. He felt so awkward sitting there in Bruce’s pajama’s, in his bed. There was this overwhelming urge to flee and he didn’t know why. 

Just as he was putting together an excuse, some reason to get the hell out of Dodge, Dick’s voice came from down the hall, frantic.

“Bruce! _Bruce!”_ Footsteps pounded down the carpeted flooring and the man was halfway to the door when Dick threw it open, only to stop in his tracks; jolting like someone had punched him. 

Jason slipped his feet to the floor, instantly on high alert, pulse shooting up with a twinge from the Pit. 

But Dick just stared, eyes going back and forth between them like they wanted nothing more than to leap out of their sockets.

“Jason,” he breathed, tension draining out of him like someone’d pulled his plug.

“What’s wrong Dick,” Bruce snapped, still ready to move.

“No-uh...nothing...?” He looked bewildered as he took a few steps into the room, letting go of the doorknob. “What happened to you-?...Oh...” He looked even more confused and Jason was suddenly very aware of what Dick was seeing and he flushed; face going so hot he was sure he must look sunburnt.

“Dick,” Bruce urged, still looking unhappy, “what happened?”

His eyes snapped from Jason to Bruce, giving a tiny shake of his head. “I...don’t know? I was gonna wake Jason up for breakfast but he wasn’t in the guest room.” He looked back at Jason then. “So I went looking for you in the library and...” He trailed off when Jason stiffened and Bruce shifted, losing the stiff posture and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Hn,” he said, like it was a problem he hadn’t thought about yet.

“Did you guys...have a fight last night?” He spoke cautiously as he edged further into the room, right up until he stood next to Bruce, facing Jason.

“Sort of,” Jason mumbled at the same time that Bruce said, “no.”

Jason looked up, incredulous, but Bruce just sighed and waved a hand in front of his face. “Everything is fine Dick. You don’t need to worry about it.”

Dick blinked, swallowed, and nodded; looking like he had a thousand questions fighting for dominance in his head before he shoved his hands in the pocket of his hoodie and cleared his throat. “Right, well, breakfast is ready. If you guys want to join Alfred, Damian, and me.”

Bruce nodded and then stopped. “Just the three of you?”

“Yes, I thought - well. Cass and Steph went over to Tim’s last night after the movie. They had a sleepover, Tim said they’d be working on one of his cases.” Gradually he was gaining back his natural ease and he shot a smile at Jason. “Anyway, yeah, it’s just us three. Alfred made crepes.”

“Thank you Dick. We’ll be down in a minute.”

“Sure thing.” He gave them both a tiny salute before he turned and left. 

_The library._ Jason hadn’t even thought about it. “I’ll clean it up,” he said before Bruce even turned back around. 

“You don’t need to worry about it. I can handle it-“

“It’s my mess, I should clean it up.” He sounded angry, harsher than he’d meant to and he didn’t know why he was like this. He rubbed a hand over his face with a heavy breath and looked up at Bruce who stared back with something like concern in his eyes.

“We can do it together,” he offered, uncrossing his arms. “After breakfast.” 

“Ok...yeah.” Jason nodded, wiping his hands on the bedspread and finally folding it back.

“Now go brush your teeth, get dressed, whatever you need to, and meet me downstairs.” He turned like he was going to leave and Jason had a moment of panic.

“Bruce -“

He turned back, eyes alert.

“Don’t tell them.” Jason hated how small his voice was but it was just...it was too much at once.

Bruce softened but he still frowned and before he could open his mouth Jason continued. “Just not yet. I’ll talk to Dick, sometime. But don’t - don’t say anything yet. Please.”

It was stupid. He’d been putting this whole thing off for too long already but he didn’t want to lose the ease he’d been gaining with each of them.

Bruce continued to frown but he nodded anyway. “Alright...I’ll just tell them we had an argument and that it’s resolved now. But Jay,” he took a step back toward the bed, “no one is going to think badly of you for this.”

Jason looked away with a twist in his stomach. He wasn’t so sure himself. “Maybe...just, not yet.”

Bruce released a quiet breath. “Alright, not yet.” He began to walk toward the door and slowed, looking back with that same frown. “Don’t take too long. I want to see you downstairs for breakfast.”

Jason stood up, waving him off with a scoff. “I’ll be there when I feel like it old man.” He didn’t miss the way Bruce’s mouth twitched on a smile before he left the room.

“One good talk and he’s already _dadding_ me again, jeez,” he mumbled to himself as he shuffled down to the guest room. It filled him with a weird sensation. That same fluttering in his chest from the night before like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to laugh or start crying. 

_This is good,_ he told himself as he went to brush his teeth. _It’s good._ If anyone could possibly find a solution it was Bruce. And he wanted to help. 

_We will figure this out, we will not let it win._

Whatever Jason thought of him, (and now that was all...he couldn’t really put It into words) he kept alternating between this overwhelming sense of relief and a low, buzzing numbness.

Jason wanted this to work, so badly.

He knew he’d been unfair to Bruce in the past. That he’d assigned wrong motives and feelings, or a lack of them, a thousand times before. And Bruce...Jason felt his chest ache just thinking about everything he’d spilled all over him the night before, and just - the way he’d just held on.

Bruce wanted to help. He said that. And for once, for real, Jason believed him when he said it. Believed him when he told him he loved him and that was - _lord_ he couldn’t even think about it or he’d just start bawling again.

But there was so much more to this than that. Jason wanted to believe Bruce’s ability too; the way he made it sound like it wasn’t even an option not to find a solution.

But Jason’s confidence in Bruce had been shaken years ago. He wasn’t some invincible, infallible heroic deity like they all thought. Like Jason used to even, as a kid.

No, he was just a sad, tired asshole like the rest of them.

It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, the change in perspective. It made it easier to accept the mistakes. But it also made it harder to have faith.

“God _shut up,”_ Jason hissed to himself, ripping a pair of jeans out of the bag Dick had packed for him.

It was one step at a time. That much was true and Jason had to get that through his head and stop spiraling into shitty, unhelpful thoughts.

He pulled on his pants, threw a t-shirt on, brushed his teeth and marched out of his room. He didn’t let himself slow down or think about what he was walking into, he just went. Jason could handle breakfast with three idiots and Alfred.

  
  


*

  
  


They were all in the dining room when he came in, a place setting for him next to Dick. Jason slipped into the chair without a word, looking at the food on the table rather than anyone sitting at it.

“Good morning Master Jason.”

“Morning, Alfred,” he mumbled, scratching at the bandages wrapping his knuckles.

“Tea or coffee this morning?” Alfred hovered a hand between a pot of coffee and a pot of hot water.

“Uh, tea’s good. But I can do it-“

“Nonsense, you’re still recovering.” Without asking, he plucked a tea bag with a familiar red wrapper from a little wooden box and pulled Jason’s mug across the table, pouring the hot water. Jason watched with an odd feeling as he stirred in a single spoonful of honey and let it steep.

Of course he hadn’t asked. Jason always had a favorite and it hadn’t changed.

“I feel fine really...but thanks.”

The butler looked up from his own plate and smiled, something warm in his eyes that Jason couldn’t stop from coloring at. He glanced at Dick and Damian who were both halfway through their meals. Dick was watching with a mild expression, mouth full of food, and Damian was staring, eyebrows pinched together. Jason couldn’t tell if the kid was confused or angry and focused on dishing himself up some crepes. 

After leaving Jason’s tea to steep the old man got up from the table and went back into the kitchen. When he came back out he set a single pill on the tablecloth just in front of Jason’s plate. “These should be alright now I think, if you make absolutely sure to stick to the schedule I give you,” he spoke quietly but it was a little pointless since everyone was watching. 

Jason nodded, ducking his chin a little before he grabbed the pill and took it without question. He knew it was the antibiotic Bruce had mentioned before. He said he’d be due for it the next morning and, after everything, he doubted anyone would let him forget a dose. 

Bruce cleared his throat and Jason went still, hand halfway from a bowl of berries to his plate. The deliberate draw for attention made him nervous right up until Bruce said, “Damian, you mentioned a project in biology you’re working on?”

The kid perked up immediately. Not like any normal kid, who would look excited or interested at a topic they wanted to discuss coming up. Instead he put his fork down, sat up straight, and raised his chin like he was about to give a speech.

Jason lowered the berries to his plate, feeling oddly numb. Dick kept sending him curious but vaguely worried glances that he did his best to ignore.

Alfred put his tea down by his plate and Jason thanked him and took a bite of crepe while Damian prattled on about DNA and the _‘relatively minor differences between all living things’ physical makeup’_ that was probably, Jason was sure, going to lead around to why dogs and people weren’t so different when you got down to it. 

He missed most of the conversation because Titus came wandering into the room then, coming up to the back of Jason’s chair. He put a hand down and let him lick at the back of his uninjured one while he sat and wagged his tail, swishing it back and forth over the carpet.

Taking the moment to just not think, Jason rubbed over Titus’ head until the dog took it as an invitation and pushed into his lap, resting his head on his thigh. He absently heard Dick let out an amused snort but ignored it; he would have been content to sit like that for the rest of the meal. Except then Damian cleared his throat loudly and interrupted Bruce, who had been midway through saying something.

“Todd.”

Jason glanced up, looking back at the kid who just awkwardly cut off everyone’s conversation. 

“I will be taking Titus for a walk later and I would like you to come. After we left him with you and our sudden return I would prefer to ease his transition back to the manor to avoid jarring his perceived environment too much.” 

All three of the others were looking at the kid with restrained amusement, something soft in Dick’s face. Damian’s cheeks went a soft shade of pink but he didn’t say anything else, just stared at Jason like there was a question in there somewhere.

He might have called him on it but in the end he didn’t want to embarrass him in front of everyone and he was, maybe, a little grateful and tiny bit flattered.

“I uh...sure, I guess.”

“After breakfast then.” Damian gave a curt nod and Dick flicked a piece of fruit at him from across the table, blueberry landing perfectly on his spoon where it sat on his plate.

“I could join, if I’m invited.”

Damian rolled his eyes but his lips twitched in an aborted smile. “Fine.”

“Uh- actually, maybe we can do it a little later...?” Jason said, thinking of the bloody mess he left in the library.

Damian raised an eyebrow. “Why? Important plans to attend to?” He said derisively. 

“Yes, actually,” Jason said back, a little peeved. The kid had to stop acting like he could just demand things from people. He only frowned harder though.

“You are meant to stay here for another 24 hours, you should not be-“

“Did I _say_ I was leaving? I just have something I need to do, can you not wait an hour? Christ.” 

Titus nudged at the hand sitting on his snout and Jason tried to pull back on the reflexive surge of irritation. It was so easy to snap, but it made him feel like an asshole even when the kid deserved it.

Damian’s face went red, no longer from embarrassment. “If you do not actually wish to come you-“

“Whoa, hey now.” Dick put a hand out, physically trying to pause the conversation as Bruce set a hand on Damian’s arm. “Let’s back up a little here. That’s not what Jason said.” And now the little brat did look embarrassed. The kind of angry embarrassed Jason _still_ got when he snapped without meaning to.

“Jason and I have plans after breakfast Damian. That’s all he’s referring to.” The embarrassment didn’t fade when he looked at Bruce but there was a light of understanding then; that it wasn’t something he was meant to know. Maybe that only made it worse but he subsided finally, dropping back into his seat and giving a haughty little sniff.

“Then when should I expect you to be free?” He asked, doing a decent job of ignoring his own snotty behavior. 

“I...” Jason hesitated and looked at Bruce who looked back like he, too, was wondering that same thing. Jason should have known better. When had the man ever tried to get blood stains out of his own things? “I’m not sure. Maybe an hour?”

Bruce nodded, “That seems reasonable. Jason can find you when we’re finished.”

Damian didn’t look happy but he nodded and took another bite of his crepe. “Very well.”

There was a very short pause, at which Alfred stood up and grabbed the tea kettle, presumably to refill it. 

“Alfred,” Dick called to him as he went back into the kitchen, “I heard you started a vegetable garden out back this year.” Alfred paused in the doorway and smiled before continuing on, answering as he went. 

That was something Jason always admired about Dick, even when he’d never say a word. The way he could just keep things relaxed, diffuse a situation before it got out of hand while Jason was busy stoking the fire. He could get just as angry as any of them, he knew; but it took a lot to push him there.

The conversation moved on smoothly; Damian slowly losing the left over tension in his shoulders while Alfred talked about harvesting carrots and red cabbage. 

Jason ate, not as much as he probably should, but as ravenously hungry as he’d been since coming to the manor he just felt a little subdued. His stomach wasn’t exactly upset but it wasn’t great either. He glanced up once and caught Bruce staring at him, blank faced as usual and he tried not to flush when he glanced back to his plate and then Titus. 

Despite Dick’s play at keeping things relaxed and casual he also didn’t miss the way he glanced between him and Bruce. He was obviously curious and Jason didn’t blame him even if he really wished he would mind his own business. 

Of course Jason told Bruce he’d talk to him. And he should, he knew, but he certainly didn’t want to. 

“That was wonderful Alfred,” Bruce said when the meal was through and the butler began clearing dishes from the table.

“Thank you Master Bruce, I’m glad it was enjoyable for everyone.”

Damian stood, excused himself, and took his plate into the kitchen before disappearing down the hall. Titus went trotting after him, leaving Jason with nothing to focus on but the remaining people in the room. 

Dick’s eyes flicked back and forth over the table like he was watching a ping pong match and then he stood as well. “So, you two need any help with your...plans?” Dick asked, halfhearted smile on his face.

“No,” Jason said, maybe a little forcefully. Bruce glanced at him, as did Alfred. 

Dick swallowed and looked a little frustrated but also sort of...hopeful? He shifted his gaze to Bruce and Jason watched while they both stared at each other; Bruce blank faced and Dick with a steady look of concentration. Finally he let out a sigh, shoulders falling incrementally. 

“Ok. I get that I’m not supposed to ask, but is everything ok? You guys are freaking me out.” Jason looked away when Dick glanced his direction again but Bruce shook his head.

“Everything is fine Dick. We’re just going to clean up the library.”

Alfred paused on his way back into the kitchen. “Is there something I should know about in the library?” He asked, turning halfway around with his hands still full.

“No,” Bruce and Jason both said at the same time.

Alfred narrowed his eyes and let out a sigh but turned back around without question. “The cleaning supplies are above the washing machine in the main laundry room,” he muttered before disappearing into the kitchen.

Dick gave a slight grimace. “Sorry, I guess I’ll...go find Damian for a bit then. Come find us when you’re done?” He looked to Jason, that same hopeful expression from before. He swallowed roughly and nodded, not incredibly happy that Dick had invited himself on the walk with Titus and Damian. Not that he thought it would go great without him.

He didn’t think Damian was mad at him exactly, not from the way he’d asked at least. But they’d barely been civil to each other outside of text messages up to this point. Jason had no expectation of miracles. He watched Dick scuff his feet on the floor before he finally gave an awkward nod and disappeared around the corner, leaving just Bruce and Jason still sitting at the table.

Bruce glanced at him, eyes the slightest bit squinted at the sides. “I’ll get the cleaning supplies if you want to meet me there?”

“I can handle it,” Jason said, pushing his chair back and standing cautiously slow, not wanting to get a head rush and embarrass himself after all of this. 

Bruce stood to match him, giving him that signature stare that always made Jason want to squirm. He’d grown out of it with age but the feeling never went away. “I know you can,” he said in this stupid, _gentle_ voice, “but I’d still like to help.”

Jason rubbed the back of his neck, feeling himself go pink. He’d been prepared to argue once everyone was out of the room. It was his mess, he could clean it up himself; but as soon as Bruce used that stupid voice it was like all the fight left him. “Fine,” he grunted out as he took a step away from the table. “But I’ll get the cleaning supplies.”

“Alright,” Bruce offered, voice light and casual. “I’ll see you in a minute then.” He gave him a certain look. Like he thought Jason might take the opportunity to just disappear. Which was ridiculous. Jason wasn’t...he wasn’t running away from anything. Anymore.

For now.

_Jeez._

He rolled his shoulders as he turned away from the table; careful not to slip on the edge of the rug. When he stepped out of the room he made his way down the hall toward the laundry without looking back. His hand hurt a little. He opened and closed his fist a couple times, testing out the motion, feeling if he’d been mistaken the night before. It didn’t feel too bad, he’d probably do alright without the cast thankfully.

The laundry room was neat and tidy, like every part of the manor that Alfred presided over. Though it was massive, larger than Jason’s bedroom in his own apartment, which probably made it easier. His eyes darted around the room, vaguely remembering the time he’d snuck in here to steal back his red sweatshirt when he’d blown out one of the elbows and he thought Alfred was gonna throw it away. 

Instead he’d found an assortment of sewing supplies and a few different patches of fabric laid out like he was trying to find the best color match. 

Jason swallowed and blinked the memory away, going for the plastic caddy on a shelf above the washing machine full of various supplies. Some old rags, bleach, peroxide, he glanced around the shelf and pulled out a bottle of leather cleaner and another for upholstery. Then he filled an empty spray bottle with water from the work sink and dropped it all in the caddy with a stack of clean rags and a roll of paper towels tucked under his arm.

When he entered the library Bruce was standing in front of the fireplace surveying the room with a mildly disgruntled look. 

Jason stopped just inside the door, looking around the area. The IV pole was laying sideways on the ground in front of one of the bookshelves, the bags had leaked out all over the carpet. There was a large dent in one of the shelves and a few books littered the ground, pages swelled with saline solution. He shuffled in a little further and saw blood on the carpet by the coffee table and some on the couch cushions. Some on the wall even, where Jason had punched the mantle. 

There was a numbness buzzing under his skin he didn’t know how to handle, getting louder the longer he stood there. Seeing the evidence of his meltdown was enough to put him on guard. Especially when he looked at Bruce, who was still just standing there, hands on his hips like some disappointed dad looking at the ding on his new car. Jason swallowed, trying not to feel for the Pit, not to reach back and find it there like he already knew he would. 

“Where would you like to start?” Bruce asked without looking at him.

He tried to shrug but it was a jerky movement and he set the supplies on the coffee table and stuffed his hands in his pockets, clenching his jaw when Bruce finally looked up. There was a drawn out silence, long and so packed full Jason was surprised he couldn’t feel a change in air pressure.

Finally Bruce let out a soft sigh. “I think maybe before we start we should talk about a few things.”

Jason swallowed, clenching his fist in his pocket and holding onto the pain in his knuckles. “Like what?” He heard himself ask, a little distantly.

He didn’t know what to do now. How to act. Jason and Bruce had been fighting, on and off at this point, for just as long as they’d been happy. He felt so strangely unprepared and out of practice for something that wasn’t an argument.

“Like...” Bruce went quiet again for a long moment, gaze going far off like he was looking for the right words. “Like what the plan is from here. To...get you help.” 

Jason almost flinched he went so tense. “To get me help? What, are you sending me back to fucking Arkham again?”

It was something he’d considered initially, when he wondered how Bruce would react. Jason didn’t exactly blame anyone for it happening, before. He’d still been off his head in more ways than one and it was one of very few feasible options at the time.

Didn’t mean it was a good time though. Jason didn’t think about it. The same way he didn’t think about so many other things. Now, the idea filled him with panic he could hardly comprehend. 

Bruce went noticeably still, a flash of _something_ in his eyes before he frowned deeply. “No. _No._ Jay, of course not - I didn’t mean-“ he let out a frustrated sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose, making Jason want to squirm All over again. His stomach was suddenly in knots and he didn’t know how it always happened so suddenly, like his body was ready to betray him at any moment.

“I’ll rephrase. I want to talk to you about what I think our first steps should be in helping you...recover.”

Jason swallowed, shoulders still tight, color blooming high on his cheeks. He felt stupid maybe, but not entirely. Bruce had made similar suggestions in the past that put Jason off the manor for months. Maybe he hadn’t meant them the way Jason had taken them back then. But maybe he had.

“You already have a plan?”

“Just the start of one.” Bruce looked him up and down for a moment and let out a near silent breath. “Will you sit, for a minute? And we can talk?” He gestured toward the couch.

Jason rolled his shoulders out an nodded, walking around the armrest and sitting down gingerly. Bruce took the seat next to him, heedless of the dried blood, and shifted to the side to better face him.

“Ok, I’m listening,” he mumbled when Bruce didn’t immediately say anything.

“My thought, is that we’ll start with meditation. Relaxation and grounding techniques. So far at least, unless I’m mistaken, these...episodes are triggered by strong, negative emotions.” He paused as if waiting for confirmation and Jason gave an uncomfortable grunt in return. That was mostly the case, even if it seemed like it needed less and less encouragement.

“So we work on them. We learn how to keep our emotions in check when it’s necessary.” 

Jason watched Bruce’s hands, planted on his knees and tried very hard not to snap when he replied, “To compartmentalize. I’ve never been good at that and you know it. I’m not like you.”

Bruce made an unhappy face, hands releasing his knees to fold around each other. “It’s not...I don’t expect it to be forever. This step is just to help you feel more in control. So you aren’t overwhelmed with...concern that you’ll lose it.

“I don’t expect you to suppress your feelings forever. No one can do that.” Then, in a wry tone, “not even me.” Bruce watched him for a moment, eyebrows drawn low in concern or concentration, Jason couldn’t tell. 

“And Jason, I wouldn’t want you to.”

He laughed then, a little bitterly, leaning over and resting his elbows on his knees, letting his hands hang between them. “You sure?”

He studied the bandages on his hand and forearm and didn’t look up, aware of how still Bruce was. Then the man placed a very hesitant hand on Jason’s shoulder.

“Yes. I am.”

Jason wiped his hands on his pants, not sure if he wanted to shrug Bruce’s hand off or for him to keep it there. “The eventual goal will be that you can express whatever you’re feeling without worrying about losing control.”

“That’s-“ Jason felt frustrated but he was trying not to show it. “Meditation isn’t going to _fix this.”_ He finally looked up, trying to gauge Bruce’s expression and finding it just as impossible as expected.

He nodded along though, seeming unperturbed. “No, most likely you’re correct. I’ve also sent a message to Zatanna, I haven’t heard back from her yet and I believe she’s on a mission for the league currently. But I thought she could...investigate, when she becomes available.” 

Bruce shifted on the couch, letting his hand drop from Jason’s shoulder and sitting back. “The Lazarus Pit...is not a well known entity. Most of what I know has only been gathered in relation to its effects on Ra’s, that I’ve even been able to observe, and its effects on you you.” He didn’t say _‘that I’ve even been able to observe,’_ but he didn’t need to.

“That’s a very limited...pool to draw from.” Bruce made a face at the pun, like he couldn’t think of a better word and Jason scrubbed a hand over his face; unable to laugh at it. 

“What I’m saying is...” he continued, “I need to do more research. I’m hoping you can tell me anything you can, about how it’s effected you up to this point, what it feels like to you, when you began to notice a change and so forth.

“I’d also like to run some blood tests, regularly. We can compare them with older samples and current as we move forward.”

Jason tried to push down his sudden nausea at the idea of telling Bruce about the Pit. What it felt like. He swallowed harshly and breathed through his nose and considered all of it as much as he could.

“These are just first steps. We’ll know more what to do once we have more information but even if we don’t find anything from these particular things, we’ll keep looking. It’s been a single night, I certainly haven’t run out of ideas yet.”

Jason nodded, the jumbled mess in his stomach flip flopping from anxious to relieved to numb in rapid succession. “Thank you,” he finally managed to say, after too long a silence. 

He had somewhere to go from here. He’d been feeling like he was at a dead end for weeks. Like there was nowhere to go but down and down until he lost himself entirely and now there were...options. “Thank you,” he repeated, a little more firmly. “I know I-“ he glanced around the library, taking in, again, the damage he’d wreaked in a matter of seconds before Bruce had been able to subdue him. “I know I don’t deserve-“

“Stop,” Bruce interrupted him, and his voice was low and firm. “This is not-“ he shifted, laced his fingers together and squeezed them roughly, looking down and back up with his eyebrows pinched in the center. “This is not about what’s happened in the past, or even what will happen in the future. You _deserve_ whatever help you need.“

Jason blinked rapidly, looking anywhere but at the crease between his dad’s eyebrows and the downturn of his lips. “Ok,” he finally managed to rasp. He gave a harsh sniff and rubbed at his chest with his uninjured fist just to loosen the tight ball of emotion that had settled there. His heart was pounding and he was ready to end the conversation before he turned into a blubbering mess all over again but Bruce wasn’t quite finished. 

He shuffled himself closer on the couch, until their knees were almost touching. “There is...one more thing.”

Jason watched his nostrils flare and wondered if he should be nervous too.

“My other thought, if you’re open to it, is that...I’m hoping you’ll stay here for a while, at the manor.”

Jason stared, trying to piece Bruce’s words together in a way that made sense. “Stay,” he said back, tone flat. 

“Yes. At least at first, until you feel like you have a better handle on this-“

“You want me to move back in.” Jason didn’t know why he asked. obviously, that is what Bruce was suggesting but it somehow wasn’t computing.

Bruce frowned. “That is what I’m saying, yes.”

“Why?” He felt stuck, like a record hitting a scratch too big to jump.

“Well...” Bruce began, face stiff in a way Jason couldn’t read. “It’s...practical.” He turned and looked toward the window then, frowning a little harder. “You’ll need to be here frequently, if we’re going to practice meditation, run tests. Some of this could be done from your apartment, but if we’re bringing in magic experts the cave is much more discrete.”

Jason tried to take all of this in with a neutral mindset but as had been established, he was terrible at that. “And you wanna keep an eye on me,” he blurted when Bruce didn’t continue. He shouldn’t be angry about it. He knew he shouldn’t be because all experiences to date showed that it made sense, that Jason could use someone keeping tabs on him but that didn’t stop the idea from chafing. Especially the idea that it was _him._

Bruce looked back to him immediately, eyes intent. He unclamped his hands and ran his fingers through his hair, leaving it sticking up in places.

“This is not an order. I’m not telling you you have to. It’s your decision. I’m just...offering, because I know...you wouldn’t ask.” There was a hint of pleading in his voice that twisted up in Jason’s stomach.

Bruce moved, a little jerkily, and set his hand on Jason’s knee. “I just want to help Jay. That’s all. I know you’re...nervous about what you might do. If you stay here then I’ll be able to be around more often.” Another beat, “I’m not trying to control you.”

Jason closed his eyes for a moment. Trying, helplessly, to untangle the knotted confusion in his belly because that’s exactly what it felt like, suddenly. And it was all- it wasn’t - they’d already had their moment, hadn’t they? 

Bruce had said it didn’t fix everything - and it sure as hell didn’t. But Jason still didn’t know why he was so ready for it to fall apart so quickly. He wanted this to work. He wanted to believe him.

Not to mention, it _would_ be safer there. With Bruce and the others who at least stood a chance if Jason went berserk. Even if the idea of accidentally hurting one of them made him want to jump off the roof.

Jason swallowed, took a deep breath and opened his eyes. “What would happen. If I said yes.”

Bruce stared at him, like always, and gave a brief squeeze to his knee before removing his hand.

“Well, first we would need to tell everyone the truth,” he spoke the words carefully, as if gauging Jason’s reaction with each syllable. “I wouldn’t want to risk anyone getting hurt because they didn’t realize or notice warning signs they shouldn’t ignore.”

Jason ducked his head, warring with a climbing shame he didn’t want to acknowledge. It made him feel like shit, only because he knew it would be necessary if the previous night were any indication. Jason just...he didn’t want things to change. Or he _did,_ but not like that. Maybe he could fathom the idea that they wouldn’t all hate him or try to throw him out or lock him up, but...

“I don’t want anyone to be afraid of me,” he mumbled to the coffee table, staring at the grain and noticing a stray fleck of blood.

Bruce let out a quiet breath. “Jay,” he said, as if the word pained him, “trust me when I tell you they won’t be.”

He huffed a breath out and finally looked up again. If anything, he thought Bruce looked worried, even if the only hint was a the slant to his mouth. 

“I don’t know,” he finally managed through gritted teeth. “I don’t-“ he started but cut himself off. He couldn’t explain this to Bruce.

He didn’t know how to talk about the ghosts in the manor around every corner. Or the way it sometimes felt like he was a kid again, relying on all of them. The way that felt nice. The way that scared him.

“I’ll think about it.”

Bruce nodded, the slant of his mouth going just a little more severe. “That’s all I ask.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: Not a lot this chapter. Jason does make a reference to suicide but it is brief and something of an exaggeration. Mostly he’s just plagued by anxiety.
> 
> __________________
> 
> You guys. I am so funny. I am _hilarious_. Two chapters I said. Two chapters!!! _Hysterical._
> 
> Yeah so there’s a lot more than two chapters left. Some of you already know this as I mentioned it in a few comment replies but I had originally drafted just another couple chapters of this fic before the end. But then after I posted the last chapter I kept trying to rework what I had left to wedge in this one scene that was very important to me and it just wasn’t working. And anyway I trashed the remainder of the fic and redrafted/outlined everything.
> 
> I just finished the revised version of the outline two days ago and I whipped this puppy up in two days!! The rest of this story will definitely not all be uploaded so quickly as I rushed through the outline/draft as much as possible so I could get back to posting so there will be a lot more involved in redrafting the rest of this than there was the first part. 
> 
> Also you’ll notice the “Part Two” at the beginning of the chapter. It feels right, as there is a large shift in the narrative from this point forward. 
> 
> This authors note has gotten so long but I miss you all!!! I’m excited to keep posting and I’m much happier with my plans for the remainder of this guy than I was before and I think you all will be too. (I hope) 
> 
> Please let me know if there was something you enjoyed 😊


	16. the sand will slow me down and the water will drain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason has a lot to think about, there’s so much change ahead of him and he doesn’t know what to do. Past experiences won’t be erased, but is history really bound to repeat itself?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings in end notes as usual.
> 
> Just a little note, I make references to some stuff that was established in the previous installments of this series in this chapter, and make more from here on out....if you’re like _“when did this happen???”_ It probably happened in one of the previous installments lol.

Cleaning the library from that point was a quiet affair. In spite of Jason’s assumptions Bruce turned out to know a surprising amount about removing blood stains.

“Alfred does leave occasionally, you know,” he said while dabbing at a stain in the carpet with peroxide and a rag.

“Hardly ever,” Jason quipped back, carefully swiping leather cleaner in little circles over the couch he was kneeling in front of. 

“Yes, well,” Bruce grumbled as he inspected the rag to see how much blood it had drawn up. “There are also occasions when he is...upset with me.”

Jason snorted, stretching his knuckles carefully. “That’s much more believable.”

Bruce shot him a glare and then paused. “Is your hand bothering you?”

“It’s fine, just the split skin,” Jason insisted, continuing with his work. 

Bruce frowned and looked back down to the carpet, continuing to dab away. “We’ll get an x-ray of it tomorrow, when we start the blood tests.”

Jason suppressed the flare of irritation at Bruce automatically telling him what to do. He wasn’t getting into it over something stupid. It wasn’t a bad idea anyway even if Jason didn’t think it was necessary. He did think, not a little sarcastically, that he could see where Damian got it.

All in all it took the full hour they’d planned on plus a few minutes to get everything cleaned up. Jason took note of which books were ruined, planning to replace them, though he didn’t say anything.

The rug was their biggest problem. No matter how much and what combination of cleaning supplies they used the very slight brown tinge didn’t come up entirely.

If it were a dark color it wouldn’t really matter, but of course it was a traditional Turkish rug, light blue and faded with age. Jason was sure it was older than either of them even wanted to know. In the end they shifted the coffee table just off center from the couch so it covered the majority of the discoloration, making it look like a shadow rather than a stain.

“There’s no way Alfred’s not going to notice this,” Jason said as he sat back on his heels.

“Yes,” Bruce sighed, “but maybe I can replace the rug before that happens.”

Jason choked down a laugh at that, trying not to feel so bad about a possibly ruined rug. He helped stack the cleaning supplies back in the plastic caddy and then stood there awkwardly when Bruce gathered it all up.

“I’ll put it all back,” he said. And then, in a wry voice, “I think you’re running late for an appointment.”

Jason huffed a breath and scratched at the back of his neck. “Yeah, guess I better get a move on before he hunts me down.”

Bruce nodded, and there was this horribly awkward silence; the two of them just standing there staring at each other.

“Well, guess I’ll...talk to you later.” He wanted to cringe as he turned away from Bruce, hunching his shoulders up and finally fleeing the room before the man could say anything more embarrassing back. 

He shuffled down the hallway toward the den trying to keep his head from spinning too much. Bruce’s offer, or request, or...Jason didn’t know what to categorize it as exactly, was swirling around in his brain like debris in a storm.

Bruce had let the subject drop while they focused on cleaning up the mess, which Jason appreciated. But it didn’t stop it from feeling like he had set a timer on a bomb and then left it ticking in the corner, ignored. They hadn’t talked about when Jason would need to decide, or when he would go back to his apartment if he decided against it.

He supposed he could stay as long as he wanted, considering.

Which was a weird thing to acknowledge when he’d spent a year and more feeling entirely unwelcome here. He wondered, in the way you think about things outside of yourself, if that had been true. Or if he was wrong; and if he would’ve shown up on Bruce’s doorstep back then and asked for help he would have gotten it.

He shook the thought away. It didn’t matter. It wouldn’t have stuck anyway.

As he approached the den he could hear the tv on, some heated argument happening between a man and woman. When he peaked around the doorframe he found Damian sitting on the floor, drawing, with some show Jason didn’t recognize playing on the screen.

Dick was stretched out on the couch behind him, arm folded and chin propped in his hand. He wasn’t looking at the screen but was peeking over Damian’s shoulder, watching him sketch with a small smile on his face. Jason swallowed, uncomfortable, wondering when exactly everybody else had become like an actual family. 

He supposed it was while he wasn’t there.

He cleared his throat, standing awkwardly in the door frame when both of them looked up. “I’m uh, done, so...we can head out.”

Damian immediately clamored to his feet, straightening his shirt and tucking his sketchbook under his arm. “It is about time. Titus is surely getting restless. I will change and meet you on the North hill.”

Jason raised an eyebrow as the kid brushed by him. “Sure thing.”

Dick pushed himself up to a seated position and gave Jason a questioning sort of smile.

“What?” Jason felt his shoulders tense up.

“Nothing.” Dick raised his hands, putting on an innocent face. They stared at each other, a lot like how Bruce and Jason stared at each other and he wondered if this was just gonna be his life now. One awkward encounter after another. 

It was just hard because with Bruce and Dick there was always so much going on below the surface that they didn’t let on. Dick was better than Bruce, 90% of the time, but he could hide his feelings with the best of them and Jason had been getting a weird vibe from him all morning. 

Which was fair he supposed. He’d found him sleeping in Bruce’s bed like a little kid, after all. 

Jason didn’t have good winter clothes with him and it was still cold as shit and snowy outside. Bruce told him to take whatever he wanted from his closet and it was reason enough to abandon the room before Dick asked him some well meaning question. “Whatever. I’ll see you outside.” He turned and walked out without another word but he didn’t miss the huffed out sigh from the room just before he was out of earshot. 

He needed to talk to Dick. He knew he did and he planned on it. Just, with Bruce’s offer/request/whatever still ringing in his ears it was too soon. And it wasn’t likely to be a short conversation and Damian was already snippy about being asked to wait. 

Of course until they did talk every interaction was going to be uncomfortable and weird and Dick was going to shoot him concerned looks and Jason would get irritated and probably say something stupid and either hurt his feelings or make him mad.

Or both. It would probably be both. 

It was a weight he felt everywhere in his body. Like with any kind of horrifying news Jason felt desperate to tell, while simultaneously wishing he could shove his head in the sand and pretend none of it was happening.

He took a deep breath when he walked into Bruce’s closet, going immediately for the sweaters and half heartedly rifling through them. 

There were options now, he told himself as he pulled a sweater off a shelf in the back. He wasn’t terminal yet; there were things to try. Tests to run, people to see, meditation, however skeptical Jason was that the last one would help. Maybe Zatanna could whip up some charm for him to wear and all would be well.

Jason didn’t think he would ever be that lucky but he could dream. 

In the end he shrugged on a sturdy pair of jeans that Bruce must have worn twice in his life, and the warmest, softest sweater Jason had ever worn in his own. Freaking cashmere. He wanted to be annoyed by the luxury of it but he also just wanted to never take it off.

His boots were in his guest room, sitting neatly lined up in his closet because Alfred had unpacked the overnight bag Dick had made up for him. Because of course he had. Then there were a few winter coats hanging by the back door in the mud room that Jason rifled through.

When he finally ventured outside, hesitantly unlatching the back door and stepping into the damp chill, Damian was the only one there. He could see him standing on the North hill just like he said he’d be, bundled in a scarf, coat, hat, and every layer imaginable. There were a good few inches of snow on the ground but thankfully not as much as fell in the intercity. 

Titus came bounding up to him as he stepped off the back patio and into the yard, tail wagging. He greeted him quickly, rubbing both hands over the head sleeve with a smile. He still looked like a worm. 

The dog went back to nosing in the snow as Jason trudged past him toward Damian. It was quiet but for the crunch of boots and the quiet swishing of bird’s wings as they flew by overhead. 

“So...how was the trip?” Jason asked, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his coat. It was just a little too wide in the shoulders and smelled like cologne. 

Damian looked at him, unimpressed. It really lost its edge though when he looked like a marshmallow in his puff coat, red beanie pulled down over his ears and chin tucked down in a scarf. His mittened hands curled into fists at his sides and the tip of his nose was turning red. He didn’t look a day over his twelve years.

“It was agreeable.”

Jason tried not to roll his eyes as he turned so he wasn’t directly facing the kid, looking out at the trees to one side of the property and the rolling land ahead of them toward a stone wall in the distance. He couldn’t even see it from here, just knew it was there. 

“You bring home any art books?” Damian blinked like he was surprised for a moment, before looking back at Titus and clearing his throat. He almost seemed a little bashful about the whole thing.

“Yes, there were quite a few. Father is having some of them shipped to the manor since we couldn’t take them all back in our luggage.”

Jason laughed, remembering the way Bruce was always weird about that stuff. You had a talent? An interest? Suddenly the man was buying you everything in sight to do with it. “Spoiled brat,” he said, but there was no heat in it. 

“I’m glad you had fun,” he added after another pause. 

Damian gave a single, hesitant nod but didn’t respond beyond that, just tucked his hands into his coat pockets to match Jason.

The drawing had surprised him. It was good, better than anything Jason could do today let alone when he was twelve. He thought about complimenting it, that’s probably what Dick would do. But then he thought the kid’s head would probably explode, or he’d say something all snotty in return that would just piss him off. So he kept his mouth shut and watched Titus sniffing around a couple flowers that were tall enough to stick up over the snow. 

There was a short silence before Damian cleared his throat, which Jason was beginning to realize was just his way of warning when he was going to speak. 

“How was Titus, while we were away?”

Jason wasn’t sure if it was just idle conversation but Damian didn’t seem the type for small talk so he took the question seriously. “He was great. I’m actually...I’m gonna miss the big idiot.” There was a swoop in his stomach when he said it because it was really freaking true. He wasn’t sure now when he’d be back to his apartment with the limbo things were in but whenever it was, he’d really miss the damn dog.

“I...wasn’t very pleased to leave him with you, initially,” Damian admitted. “But, I was glad it was you in the end.” The kid looked down at his feet, reached up to tug his hat lower over his ears. When he spoke again his voice was quiet.

“The others like my pets just fine, but they do not really...understand.”

Jason thought about waking up from night terrors. 

About clinging to Titus through a panic attack.

And then he thought about Damian, growing up in the league, dying, waking up.

“Yeah, I get it,” he offered back, voice nothing more than a hushed croak. The kid looked at him, face serious, and finally gave a small nod.

“Have you heard anything about the fighting ring, from Gordon?”

Jason shifted uneasily, shaking some snow off the top of his boot. “No.”

No, Jason had been busy falling apart. “But I’ll look into it. I’m sure she handled it, but if not...” He was about to volunteer to take care of it. Get the scumbags thrown in jail and the animals out of there as fast as possible but then he had no idea when he’d be back on patrol. When he could trust himself with that again. It sure as hell wasn’t yet.

“I will follow up,” Damian said instead, taking his hands from his pockets and folding both arms behind his back like a tiny army general. “It cannot be so difficult to find such imbeciles.” He sneered, and Jason couldn’t help but agree, a deeply amused feeling rising in him at the thought of this little kid beating the crap out of those assholes.

Damian glanced beyond Jason, back toward the manor and rolled his eyes. “Of course.”

When Jason glanced behind him Dick was walking towards them, bundled up just as much as the two of them and carrying a travel mug in each hand with a third pinned between his chest and right arm.

“You are late,” Damian said as he approached.

“No, I don’t think so,” Dick made eyes at Jason and gave a tiny, annoyed shake of his head. “There was no agreed upon meeting time, and you can’t complain anyway. I brought hot chocolate.”

Damian stared at the cup that Dick held out to him for a moment. “Alfred’s?”

“Please, you think I made it? In Alfred’s kitchen?” Jason snorted and Dick shot him a lopsided smile when Damian finally took the mug.

“Tt.”

“It’s called a _thank you_ ,” Jason threw out when Damian began to turn away without another word. Both Dick and the kid looked at him in surprise before Damian scoffed, his cheeks coloring to match his nose.

“I did not ask for-” 

“Don’t even with me, you little brat.” Jason leveled him with a stare and raised eyebrows, waiting expectantly. He felt for the kid, he did, but this no manners bullshit was not gonna stand if Jason had anything to say about it. “Say it.” 

Damian looked affronted, wide eyed and mouth slightly open like he’d never experienced this in his entire life.

Dick, for his part, looked startled and delighted and kept glancing between Jason and Damian like it was his new favorite show. Jason took a single step toward the kid and Damian backed up, still looking confused, almost offended. All Jason was gonna do was take the hot chocolate back but before he had a chance Damian grunted out a tight, ”thank you,” and spun away to march off toward his dog, digging in the snow about twenty feet off.

Dick muffled a strangled laugh into his hand before he called out, “you’re welcome!” at Damian’s back. Then he looked at Jason like he’d never seen him before.

“What.”

“Nothing,” he laughed out, shaking his head with a wide smile. “I appreciate it. But really,” he shook his head again as he looked out at Damian, shuffling the remaining cups in his hands, “you don’t need to bother.”

Jason grunted, annoyed, probably more than he should be. “Hell yes I do, if nobody else is gonna do it.” Dick was still laughing and it just made him glare.

“My feelings aren’t hurt if he doesn’t say thank you.”

He looked at Dick like he was crazy, because he just might be. “Your feelings aren’t hurt? Oh, ok, then I guess it doesn’t matter if he’s disrespectful to every person he talks to.” Jason rolled his eyes when Dick looked back at him and then off toward the kid. He had Titus in full regalia, red sweater, head sleeve and all, and he was carefully adjusting the sleeve so it didn’t slip over his eyes. 

“You know I was a lot like him as a kid, except my mom taught me to treat other people like we were equals instead of like I was better than them. Obviously Talia didn’t. He needs to learn that he can’t talk to people like they’re servants, and he won’t if you don’t make him stop doing it. Hell, even if they were servants he shouldn’t talk to them like that.”

He didn’t know why he bothered but it irked him beyond reason. Maybe because he _did_ see so much of himself in Damian, sometimes.

Jason looked back at Dick when he made no response and then drew back, wary. The other man looked utterly amused.

“What the hell is that look?”

Dick’s grin only widened. “Nothing.”

“Stop saying that, _what?”_

“Nothing,” he repeated, playing innocent. “I just totally saw you big-brother Damian. That’s all.” 

“What? No. I did not.” Jason sounded offended even to his own ears and Dick dropped his head back and laughed.

“I mean, it’s good,” he said when he lifted his head again.

“I was not - _big-brothering_ him, that’s not even a thing.”

Dick just grinned wider. “It absolutely is, trust me. The urges get stronger with every younger sibling too, so be prepared.”

Jason pointed an accusing finger at him. “You, shut up.”

He only laughed louder though and Jason, while mildly alarmed by the accusation, couldn’t totally fight the smile taking over his face.

“I just hate bad manners ok, it’s a pet peeve,” he half laughed. “I woulda said it to you too.”

Dick rolled his eyes and gave another snort. “Sure, sure.” He was still smiling though, and he finally held out the second mug. “Here.”

Jason took it with a pointed, _“thank you,”_ and Dick shook his head, rolling his eyes but with a bright smile still firmly in place. 

“We should probably follow or he’s gonna leave us in the dust and be annoyed.”

Jason grunted his assent and they started walking. Damian and Titus hadn’t wandered that far off, but it was enough that they would have to actually try to catch up unless the kid slowed down.

“You know,” Dick said a moment after they started trudging through the snow, “I do try to _show him._ And Bruce does too, though his methods can be a little...lacking. But,” he shrugged, “you might be right. You probably understand him better than any of us...you’re good for him.”

Dick said it casually, no careful tip toeing or lowered voice like he thought it was significant in any way but the words hit Jason wrong.

_“He reminds me of you a lot. I think you could...I think you could be a good influence on him.”_

He swallowed, throat suddenly dry, smile fading as the light hearted moment slipped through his fingers like sand.

Some good influence he would be. _Lord,_ manners were one thing. A tiny, insignificant one in the grand scheme of things and Jason didn’t think the green eyed monster with a blatant disregard for life would be so _good_ for a recovering assassin. 

“Jay?” He felt a hand brush his elbow and flinched before he could stop himself, anxiety flaring that it could trigger something if he wasn’t careful - if he didn’t pay attention.

Dick looked alarmed, yanking his hand back. “You ok?”

“Fine,” Jason said, devoid of tone, watching Titus bound through the snow feeling abruptly hollow inside.

“No offense, I kind of don’t believe you,” Dick said, having to pick up his pace to keep up with Jason’s slowly increasing speed.

He shook his head, feeling nauseas. Maybe everyone in the manor was better equipped to defend themselves than the general population but Damian was already so on guard all the time. And the kid had more experience with the Pit than probably any of them besides Jason.

And then there was Cass. He knew she spent time with the League too. He wondered if she’d seen any of their horrifying ceremonies. Fought zombies they raised from the Pit for _practice._ Jason had done it, back before he took a dip himself.

He was sure Damian had. 

He wondered later, what made him anything more than a glorified zombie himself, back then.

“Jay.” Dick stepped in front of him suddenly, forcing him to come to an abrupt halt. “What is going on.” Dick looked beyond concerned, eyes roving over him like there might be some surprise knife sticking out somewhere.

“Nothing,” Jason said forcefully, trying to step around him. 

“Bullshit.” Dick stepped in his way, not letting him pass and dumping half his drink in the snow in his haste. “I don’t know what I said but-”

“You didn’t say anything, I’m fine.” Which was, of course, a lie and Jason was maybe spiraling pretty hard but he needed Dick to back off because he could feel his pulse rising and if he freaked out again, right here, right now, he would leave and never come back.

“Ok, I don’t believe you! You just went from joking around to looking like you were going to pass out in a split second. I’m trying to give you space but...” He looked at a loss, mouth open and head slowly shaking back and forth. “You’re freaking me out here.”

Jason took a deep breath, hand tightening around his travel mug, trying to ground himself in the warmth of it. “Will you just listen to me when I tell you I’m fine? I don’t have anything else to say.” He did his best to say it all in a calm voice, but he knew he sounded defensive and he distinctly felt it. 

Dick’s face twisted, a brief flash of anger that changed to something so severely upset that Jason nearly took a step back.

“No, I fucking won’t. Because the last time you told me, _‘I’m fine, I just don’t want to talk.’_ I found you half dead on your living room floor two days later.” His eyes were welling with tears, red rimmed and hurt; and Jason felt frozen in place, with his heart lodged in his throat. 

“Look,” Dick tossed his travel mug in the snow without warning and dragged both hands through his hair, ”I know you think this family is all fake, or _pretending_ or - or trying to manipulate you or something but _I’m not_ Ok? Whatever you think about Bruce, or anyone else here. _I_ am _not._

“I love you and that fucking terrified me. I don’t care what it is, I don’t care what you did, or what you _think_ you did. Or if it’s not anything that happened, it’s just...just everything. I just want to make sure you’re not going to go back to your apartment after this just so you can kill yourself in _peace.”_

Jason flinched back, every nerve in his system firing at once. “I told you I’m not-” he tried to defend himself but his voice was weak and Dick shook his head. 

“Maybe you wouldn’t put a gun to your head, but what about patrol? Maybe you stop wearing all your armor because it _‘slows you down’_ , maybe you stop eating as much because you’re _‘just not hungry,’_ and you stop sleeping because hey, you just can’t and the nightmares are awful anyway, and so you stat slipping and you get hurt more but it’s not a big deal so you take care of it yourself, until it keeps happening, and you can’t think straight because you’re not sleeping and you take bigger and bigger risks until you’re lucky to survive every god damn fight.”

Dick was breathing hard by the end and he swiped a hand angrily over his eyes, giving a harsh sniff. Then he looked at Jason with such a piercing stare he couldn’t hold his gaze. When he spoke next his voice was soft, “You may not have been jumping without a line, but what happens when you get another infection like this one that doesn’t just go away with your shitty, outdated meds? You’re not fine Jay.” 

Jason’s stomach was churning, and he couldn’t speak because he might throw up. He glanced past Dick, just for somewhere else to look, and he saw Damian off in the distance, out of earshot but clearly staring at them. He turned away as soon as he saw Jason looking, shoulders hunched to his ears.

“Dick,” he barely managed his name, turning his eyes to the other man’s feet and the spilled hot chocolate. 

“I know you think I won’t understand-”

Jason shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment to try to stop the world from spinning. Because that speech - _shit,_ that didn’t come from some imaginary place. He swallowed convulsively and scrubbed his free hand over his face.

“I don’t think you’re fake,” he finally whispered, voice unsteady.

Dick let out a breath, shuffling closer, right up until he was within arm’s reach. Jason didn’t look at him. Instead he stared out at the rolling hills of the grounds, the layer of snow making everything look vaguely two dimensional. It was just after midday and clouds hung low above them, casting a gray light on everything you could see. He took a breath and held it. 

Jason sometimes had a hard time understanding Dick. He used to resent him for the way he’d treated Jason when he was a kid; for storming out and ignoring him, acting like he didn’t exist. He’d gotten over it eventually. 

Now that he was older and looked back on it, it was such a small thing, in the grand scheme. Dick had been a kid then too, though it hadn’t seemed like it at the time. And if he was honest with himself now, which, he was trying to be, he knew that...that after he came back, after he stopped trying to kill Bruce or force his hand, Dick had always reached out. Even when they were at each other’s throats for a cowl nobody really wanted he’d tried to reason with him. To talk. And that was even when the Pit had more of him than not.

He swallowed and released the breath.

“It’s the Pit.” His voice came out quiet and hoarse. 

When he glanced over Dick’s face was drawn in concern, eyes flitting over his hunched shoulders. “What do you mean?”

“I-...it’s been bothering me. Ever since I stopped killing.” Jason felt fidgety, running his fingers over the bandage on his right hand and tapping at the side of the travel mug. “That’s why I’ve been patrolling less, it’s - I feel like I’m-“ Jason clenched his jaw.

“I’ve been worried what I might do.” He swallowed roughly again, “I’ve come too close to crossing that line without meaning to. A couple times.”

“Shit Jay,” Dick breathed, wringing his hands together. “So that’s...it’s been quite a while then.” The question was implied and by the tightness of Dick’s expression he was trying not to react. 

Jason gave a half hearted shrug. “I didn’t notice at first. It wasn’t that bad until recently.” 

Dick shuffled a little closer, shoulders hunching up against the icy breeze. “Is this why you didn’t go to the hospital?” The anxiety on his face didn’t match the gentleness of his voice, soft, like he was afraid Jason would spook.

He looked down, feeling his cheeks heat, and shrugged. “Too many people...too much noise.”

Dick moved closer still, until their shoulders were touching, angled so they weren’t right in each other’s faces but just barely. “Did it- did this have something to do with why you didn’t tell any of us either?”

Jason took another deep breath, feeling the sting of the cold air in his nostrils and trying to banish the constricting weight around his lungs. “Kind of,” he offered lamely, rubbing at his face. “At first I really thought it was fine, that the infection would clear up if I just kept an eye on it but then everything was getting really bad and I was-“ Dick pressed a little more firmly into his side and he felt his hand settle on his opposite shoulder, light, careful, like he thought Jason might shake him off. “I was afraid of - the questions that might be asked.”

“You didn’t want anybody to find out,” Dick said softly. 

“I didn’t want-“ Jason swallowed again, shaking his head and dragging in a shaky breath. He didn’t even know what he was trying to say. There was just an ache in his chest that was clawing its way out. “I just felt like you’d all be disappointed in me.” His voice was small and the words stung. It wasn’t something he’d admitted, even to himself. “I wanted to take care of it on my own.”

Dick made a noise like someone had punched him in the stomach. “Little wing.” He sounded upset, more than Jason would have anticipated and then without warning he was being hauled into a tight hug. It caught him off guard and his hand with the mug was pinned between them, making his knuckles throb. “Nobody would be disappointed in you for _struggling_ with something. Jay, you get that now, right?”

“Yeah, ok, I get it,” Jason griped, but his voice was watery and his chest still ached. “It was just - it was the Pit and the infection, and I didn’t-“ He took a shaky breath and finally raised his free arm to return the hug. “I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

“Aw Jay.” Dick’s voice was just as watery and Jason would’ve been horribly embarrassed by the tears in his eyes except that Dick couldn’t see them. The arms around him squeezed tight and despite being multiple inches taller, Jason felt every bit the younger one. “It’s ok,” Dick mumbled into his shoulder, “you can yell at me anytime you need to.”

He let him go then, released his arms slowly and stepped back just enough to hold him by the shoulders. Jason wiped at his face quickly, blinking away the tears. “You talked to Bruce about it.” 

“Yeah, we...yeah.” He sniffed, swiping his wrist under his nose. 

“That’s what happened to the library?”

He felt his cheeks go pink at the reminder and glanced across the grounds. “It - yeah, I...that’s what happened to the library.”

Dick gave him a sad sort of smile and squeezed his shoulders with both hands before finally letting go. “So he’s setting something up? Planning a way to...to make it stop?”

“Yeah,” Jason took a breath through his nose, Bruce’s question reappearing and swirling in his mind. “He’s got ideas.” He looked out again, at the snow. They could just see Damian and Titus still; two little dark patches moving against a stark white background. So much for their joint walk. 

“He asked me to stay,” Jason blurted then, unable to keep the thought to himself any longer.

“To stay? Here?” Dick sounded surprised and Jason gave a bitter sort of laugh. 

“I know, shocking, right?” He finally, for the first time, took a drink of the hot chocolate, feeling the biting chill in his fingers and toes. 

“No,” Dick said with a frown, “I mean, a little, but not for the reason you’re thinking. Bruce is terrified of scaring you off. I’m just...surprised he had the guts to actually ask.”

Jason didn’t say anything to that, not sure how to respond at all. Because he thought it actually was true and that made him feel weird. It had barely been a day, he couldn’t adjust this quickly. 

“What did you say?” Dick asked after a moment, when Jason remained silent. He shrugged.

“I said I didn’t know. He told me to think about it.” Dick didn’t look surprised by this, just nodded, but Jason was sure him not immediately refusing must have been some kind of shock.

“Ok, so...what are you thinking?”

He made a frustrated noise and kicked at the snow, sending a white puff of powder through the air. “Hell if I know.” 

There was another silence and Dick opened his mouth to say something but then Jason plunged ahead, words buzzing through his brain like bees.

“I mean, it’s _here._ And it’s this place, and it’s Bruce, and it’s the Pit, and I don’t want to get sucked back into the family just for everything to fall apart again.” Jason was breathing hard and he didn’t know why he told _Dick_ of all people except that he couldn’t say it to anyone else. 

His brother blinked at him, eyes a little sad as he slipped his hands in his pockets. “Why do you think things will fall apart?” He asked, voice carefully neutral.

Jason sputtered, “because it’s us? Because it’s _me?_ I mean even if I weren’t liable to choke someone out if they do or say the wrong thing, it always does. It’s what we _do._ We come together in a clinch, and then we just-” he put his hand out, gesturing to what wasn’t there, “we unravel.”

Dick watched him and Jason waited for the argument, some reason he was wrong; but he stayed silent. He finally gave the tiniest shake of his head before he turned away from the manor and Jason to look out toward the open land.

“I know what you mean. The cycle. It’s like every time we find peace and things are finally looking up...something terrible happens or one of us makes the _worst_ decision. Or all of us do, and we hurt each other. 

“More often than not it’s a combination. But...” Dick looked back at him, eyes earnest. “We know it’s possible, don’t we? Because we find it. We come back to it, we always come back to each other and,” he took a deep breath and swallowed, “And I think, now that we’re older, and we’ve seen all this... _everything_...we know better, what we should do and how to handle the hard stuff, together. What helps and what hurts. We’ve learned what matters.”

Jason watched him, a chill making him hunch over and wrap his arms around himself. His chest hurt with how much he wanted all of that to be true. “I don’t know,” he said, hoarse and barely audible. “I think that every time, that things’ll be different.”

Dick licked his lips and turned back toward him, eyes bright. “Listen. I don’t know if you...maybe you already know this, maybe somebody told you but I don’t know when they would have...”

“What Dick?” Jason asked, feeling tired and heart sore.

“Bruce started seeing someone,” he finally blurted, standing up a bit straighter, shaking some snow off his pant leg.

Jason blinked for a moment, uncomprehending. “What, like, he and Selina are back together?”

Dick looked briefly confused, “No, no, that’s not what I - well, I don’t know - that’s not what I mean.” He shook his head, looking exasperated with himself. “I mean professionally. He started seeing a therapist.”

For a minute they both stared at each other, and while Jason was confused by the previous statement, this one just seemed to make even less sense.

Dick went on, “Honestly, I had no faith at first. I still don’t know if I believe it’s gonna last and it’s not like there’s been some kind of overnight transformation. He’s still...Bruce. But...I’ve noticed a difference. I know Tim and Cass have, even Stephanie. And I’m sure Damian, though he’ll never talk about it...The-the point is Jay, that’s breaking the mold isn’t it? I mean I’ve never...I’ve never seen him put this kind of effort in before. Not since I was a kid.”

Jason stared, unable to think of anything like a comprehensible reply. They’d been standing outside for long enough, unmoving, that Jason had been mildly shivering for a few minutes now. He hadn’t noticed up to this point. 

“That’s...” He didn’t know. Was it surprising? Shocking? Relatively unbelievable? All of the above.

But there was no way Dick was _lying_ and Jason had thought the same thing, hadn’t he? That Bruce reminded him.....reminded him of when he was a kid. He didn’t know what to think. He adjusted the hood on his coat, feeling fidgety and weird. Dick seemed to read the blank look on his face and pushed on.

“I guess Stephanie talked him into it.”

 _“Stephanie?”_ Jason’s wandering gaze snapped back to Dick, incredulous. The man smiled.

“Yeah. I don’t actually know what she said but I guess it stuck. I try not to be offended that it didn’t work when _I_ tried.” He shrugged, a humorous bent to his mouth. “I tell myself it was the timing. You can’t help someone if they aren’t ready to accept it and all that. I guess he was ready.”

Jason, in-spite of the topic at hand, felt vaguely offended on Stephanie’s behalf. He didn’t know her all that well but... “You know she offered to beat you up if I asked her to.”

Dick blinked in surprise for a moment, smile going mildly dazed. “What?” The word came out on a little white puff of breath.

“Can kinda see why she was so ready to throw down with you.”

Dick laughed then, wide grin stretching across his face. “Yeah ok, I should give her more credit.”

Jason shifted, shaking his head, internally reeling at this new information. It wasn’t quite sinking in. “How long has it been?” He finally asked.

“Since he started going?”

Jason nodded.

“Just a few months. But he’s sticking with it, once a week like clockwork. He...he really seems committed.”

Jason gave a flat hum in response. It wasn’t that he was angry, or that he didn’t appreciate what Dick was telling him. He thought, once this sunk in, that he would be honestly glad to hear it but right that moment it just felt overwhelming. One more piece to an already impossible puzzle.

“I know,” Dick finally replied after a pause, smile slipping a little. “I have a hard time with it too, sometimes.” He ran a hand through his hair and scratched at the back of his neck.

“This isn’t just about Bruce Dick, there’s...” Jason shook his head again, feeling helpless, not even knowing where to start.

The older man frowned again, taking a step closer, Jason noticed the cuffs of his pants were soaked through. “I know, I’m not - I don’t want you to think I’m trying to convince you to listen to him and stay here. I’m not. I just want you to understand that...whatever you decide to do, we’ll all still help you.

“You should do whatever you think is best. Just don’t think that if you choose not to stay at the manor that you’ll be on your own again. If you let us, we’ll be there. No matter what.”

Jason could barely swallow his throat felt so tight. “Speak for yourself,” he rasped out. “Nobody else even knows. Hell, half the people that live here bailed last night because I made movie night so damn awkward.” 

Dick grimaced and held his hands up. “That’s not why.”

“Sure.” Jason rolled his eyes.

“It’s _not.”_ Dick looked tired and a little put out. “I suggested it. I still wanted to talk to you and I was hoping to avoid a repeat of yesterday. It’s like herding cats when everyone’s in the manor at the same time. Especially if Stephanie is here. I knew I could get Damian to let us be as long as he didn’t think Tim was trying to hide something from him.” He rolled his eyes then, with a little half smile.

Jason looked at his feet, feeling stupid but also like he was still right. “I don’t think it would really be fair. For me to live here,” he finally admitted.

“What do you mean?” Dick asked, face going concerned again.

“Dick, whatever you think, I never broke into your apartment and tried to kill you and you didn’t grow up with the Pit in your backyard.” He threw a hand out toward the little black speck of Damian in the distance. “You knew me when I was a kid and you have a guilt streak a mile wide. You wanna make up for all the crap that happened before I died - don’t deny it.” Jason quickly cut off the argument clearly on Dick’s lips.

He looked frustrated but stayed silent.

“Your first introduction to me wasn’t a half rabid lunatic with a vendetta. If they think-” Jason took a deep breath, trying not to think it himself. “If they think I’m gonna turn into that again, is it really fair for me to be around all the time? Bruce doesn’t think Tim comes around enough as it is, he’s not gonna be here more if I am. Not like this.”

Dick frowned. “Ok first of all, you’re not going to turn into that again. We’re not going to let that happen. And second, Jason, yes, he would be. Trust me. He likes you a whole lot more than he likes Damian and he’ll want to help. And third, so they didn’t know you before the Pit, they knew you after, when you got better. They know you now.”

Jason scoffed, “barely.” He very nearly added, _’just because you want it to be true doesn’t mean it is.’_ And caught himself at the last second. He didn’t need a call back to that conversation.

Dick kept on frowning.

“If you don’t trust me then let’s test it out. You know everyone is going to find out eventually. We can’t keep it a secret. So let us tell them. Me and Bruce can do it, you don’t have to be there. But let us, and you’ll see.”

Jason hesitated, nerves making him grind his teeth. He took a drink of the hot cocoa just for something to do and his hand was shaking when he brought it to his mouth. Dick was right and he knew it. He couldn’t keep this a secret anymore. That beyond anything else would be unfair to everyone. They deserved to at least be able to make an informed decision. 

“Ok,” he finally agreed, feeling like he’d just sentenced himself to the gallows.

“Just-” Dick hesitated for a split second, and then stepped back into his space, grabbing him by both arms. “Don’t worry so much about everyone else. You have just as much right to be here as any of us if you want to be. Whatever they think at first, they’ll come around.” Then he wrapped both arms around him and pulled him into another hug. 

“All anyone will want to do is help, but they will do that no matter where you are,” Dick mumbled into his shoulder, holding tight. Jason blinked back stupid tears and held him back. He didn’t know what anyone would say, who would think what. He wouldn’t blame them no matter the outcome but...but he sort of hoped Dick was right. 

He didn’t want to need their help. Wasn’t even sure how much of it he could accept. But knowing that he had it? That would be...that would be everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: Multiple references to suicide. Some detailed and blunt statements regarding suicidal behavior. You can always request details if you prefer before reading!
> 
> Be safe!  
>   
>   
> ___________________  
>   
>   
> Jason and Dick _finally_ got to have an actual, full fledged, for real conversation that didn’t get ruined by other people!!! and they hugged!!! Beautiful isn’t it.... 
> 
> Dick is a very difficult character for me to write and try to keep the balance between the _inspiring and caring older brother_ and the _jaded hero who never gets a break_...I try but I edited their conversation so many times I finally was like “welp this is it.”
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed! Next chapter might take a bit longer but I’m _working, working, working_
> 
> Chapter title from Addict With a Pen by Twenty One Pilots.


	17. Pattern evolving, motion insolvent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The cat might be (partly) out of the bag, and it was probably good. It was. But that didn’t mean things weren’t still strained and awkward, no matter how much better they still were than before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a transition chapter....so it’s shorter, (for me) but it was the best place to end I think. No warnings this chapter that I could think of....

In the end, they waited for Damian and Titus to come back to the manor before they went inside. Dick rescued his abandoned hot chocolate and lamented the waste while Jason tried to draw the last dregs of warmth from his own. The temperature felt like it was rising a little, and the snow in the trees was dripping and falling from branches in big chunks. Everything was wet and Jason would be the first to admit it was pretty miserable out. 

But Dick stood close, and he turned the conversation to something easy and didn’t expect Jason to respond, just chattered on about nothing. The anxiety lurking in the back of his mind, keeping his muscles tense and his back hunched, slowly eased back to something manageable.

It settled around his shoulders while he tried to reconcile Bruce in _therapy_ with the Bruce he knew, and he watched birds fluffing up their feathers and tucking their heads down until they were little round shapes perched on naked branches. 

Damian came trudging back to the house after a while, clutching his empty travel mug and tossing a ball for Titus as he went. He gave both of them a _look_ when he walked up but didn’t ask, just grumbled to himself and scowled at the snow. “I’m not sure you are aware but a walk usually includes _walking.”_

“Sorry kid,” Jason said, a little lack luster, while Dick threw an arm around the boy’s shoulders, giving an apologetic smile.

“We got wrapped up in conversation. Jay and I have a lot to catch up on you know? I’m sure he’ll join you again. Maybe tomorrow?” Dick glanced up to him, hopeful expression that Jason wanted to punch him for. He let out a gust of breath and shrugged. 

“Sure, if you want me,” he directed this to Dick pointedly, who frowned, before he looked at Damian. 

“We shall see,” was Damian’s eventual reply as he shrugged out from under Dick’s arm and came around Titus’ other side. “It is supposed to rain tomorrow and after London I have had about enough of this.” He gestured to the sky and rolled his eyes. “One skipped day will not do any harm. Perhaps Thursday.”

That certainly wasn’t the tune the kid was playing by before but maybe being back home made him relax a bit. Jason didn’t comment.

“Well, just let me know I guess.” 

  
  


*

  
  


Most of the rest of Jason’s day was spent watching mind numbing television because he just didn’t want to think anymore. He was still physically tired and on top of all the other shit he just needed something easy for his brain to digest. Dick and Damian both watched with him for a while.

The kid sat on the floor, drawing again with a book propped open next to him, probably one of the new ones from their trip. Dick passed out on the other side of the sofa within ten minutes and Jason tried to push down the guilt that came with seeing him so tired. 

Dick didn’t sleep well in general, not that any of them did, but being here instead of at his own place probably didn’t help. And Jason knew he was the main reason for that. 

Sometimes he didn’t get why Dick cared so much. Or why he put so much effort in when about 50% of the time Jason just threw it back in his face. 

Dick had never approved of his “methods” any more than Bruce and Jason still resented it sometimes when he felt particularly strongly about something. But the longer he went without a kill to his name the more he wondered if it wasn’t just about the people who died. 

He’d caught a conversation once, between him and Damian, a long time before. Back when Dick was wearing the cowl and Jason was still sweating Lazarus green. It was before Jason had made his new debut. When he was gathering intel, trying to figure out the new, violent Robin before he made his move to bring them both down. He’d caught it on a voice recording.

_“It’s not just about whether someone deserves it or not. Or whether everyone would be better off if they were out of the picture. It’s about you too. Killing someone, no matter what you think, is not something you do without consequences. It takes a toll on you, to carry that kind of burden, and regardless of how old you are or whether you’ve taken a life before, it’s still true. I don’t want that for you.”_

Jason had scoffed and rolled his eyes at the time. Taken it as just more evidence that Dick was just as bad as Bruce had been before he’d up and died. 

Self righteous and forever ineffectual.

Now of course, his tune had changed a bit. There would always be people who deserved to die. But Jason knew now that Dick was right too. It was a heavy weight to carry, and he wondered how much of what had felt like self righteousness back then was really just concern.

Jason lifted a leg onto the cushions and shoved Dick in the hip with his foot, startling him awake. 

He sucked in a sharp breath and blinked around the room for a second. “Lay down Big Bird,” Jason said, sliding his foot back to the floor.

Dick however sat up straighter, scrubbing a hand over his face and shaking his head. “No I’m fine, sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.”

“It’s fine,” Jason insisted, “just lay down if you’re gonna nap, or you’ll end up with a crick in your neck.” 

He opened his mouth to say something in return, probably to argue, Jason was sure. _“Dick._ You’re tired. Just lay down.” 

“He is right, Grayson,” Damian piped up from the floor, not looking up from his drawing. 

Slowly Dick’s mouth closed, eyes darting between the two of them before his shoulders drooped. “Alright, alright. I’m not an old man yet, you know.” But he still shuffled over on the couch until he could lean his upper half sideways on the cushions with a throw pillow tucked under his head. He pulled his feet up next to him, pressed up against Jason’s thigh and Jason dragged the blanket off the back of the couch and threw it at his face. 

Dick sputtered and pulled it down with a sarcastic, _“thank you,”_ thrown in for good measure but he still spread it over his upper half and closed his eyes. Damian glanced at the both of them but didn’t say anything, just continued his work.

Jason kicked his feet up on the coffee table and changed the channel to some interior decorating show and it was quiet. 

It was...kinda nice.

Time went by without him really noticing, after that. Alfred brought them in sandwiches around dinner time and Jason jabbed Damian in the ribs with his foot, only to have it knocked away by a sharp elbow before he gave a tight, “thank you, Pennyworth.” 

“You’re welcome, Master Damian,” Alfred said, before looking at Jason with a quarked eyebrow and a twitch of his mustache. 

“Thanks, Alfie.”

“Of course.” The old man gave a short nod and went to straighten the blanket at Dick’s shoulders, leaving his sandwich on the coffee table for whenever he woke up. He must have been out pretty good not to stir at all of them moving around but he didn’t so much as snuffle.

Damian paused in his drawing and shuffled up to the coffee table while they both ate in relative silence, some treasure hunting show on in the background. 

“They will never find anything of importance,” the brat grumbled, his back to the tv while Jason shoved a bite of Alfred’s chicken salad sandwich in his mouth. He swallowed roughly before replying. 

“Hey, don’t knock other people’s dreams,” 

The kid scoffed but continued eating his own veggie sandwich without comment, glancing back at the screen every couple minutes with a frown. They finished their food and Damian went back to drawing and Jason sat back and listened to a group of excitable nerds discuss the possibility of an as-of-yet undiscovered underground labyrinth of tunnels that could lead to various stashes of buried treasure. 

He was getting drowsy himself listening to them.

Right up until Bruce knocked on the doorframe. It made him jump, just a little, and he saw his eyes flicker over him before they settled on Damian. 

“Have you finished that Literature assignment yet?”

“Tt,” Damian tucked his head down a little closer to the page he was drawing on and Bruce let out a soft sigh. 

“Come on, I’ll help you with it.”

“It is not due until Monday, I have plenty of time to complete it,” he grumbled at his hands, not looking up.

Bruce gave him a flat look. “And it’s not the only assignment you have that will be due on Monday. This was part of the deal, which was your idea, remember? You get the extra days off school in exchange for getting all of your missed work done on time.”

Damian hunched a little further. “I will get it done on time.”

“And if you wait until the last minute you’ll be slapping them all together. Come on.” Bruce made a rolling motion with his hand, gesturing for him to get up and follow. 

The kid finally snapped his head up, looking offended. “I do not _slap together_ anything, and I am insulted-“

Bruce dropped his hand and closed his eyes, letting out a loud enough sigh that it cut straight through Damian’s sentence. When he opened his eyes again they both stared at each other with perfectly matching disgruntled faces that had Jason fighting the urge to laugh.

“I also don’t want you pulling an all nighter later to get all your work done. This whole arrangement was so you could still get to patrol when we got home without worrying about jet lag on top of school. This isn’t a request. Now come on. You’ve spent the whole day with your brothers, it’ll take an hour and a half, max. I’ll help.” 

“I do not need your help,” Damian grumbled under his breath even as he closed his book and sketch pad and tucked them both under his arm to stand up. Jason didn’t blink at Bruce calling them brothers but only because he forced himself not to. 

“I’m aware,” was Bruce’s dry reply as he held out an arm, waiting while Damian shuffled across the room. He absently patted him on the shoulder before looking up at Dick and Jason. His eyes darted to Dick, still napping, and his mouth twitched. “Don’t let him sleep too long. He’ll be grouchy when he wakes up.” 

Jason snorted and waved them both off, keeping his eyes on the tv and only glancing at his older brother when they’d both disappeared. His sandwich still sat untouched on the coffee table and he figured he’d be sad to let it dry out before he got to eat it. So, being very careful, he gripped one of Dick’s ankles and shook it gently, holding on with enough grip so if he startled he wouldn’t kick Jason in the face or something. 

They were all relatively trained to keep still when they initially woke up, it could be to your advantage, after all, for someone to think you were still sleeping in a dangerous situation. But, reflexes were reflexes, and depending on the dream Dick might be having Jason didn’t want to risk it. There’d been enough distance between them earlier he hadn’t been worried but Dick packed a powerful kick when he wanted to.

There was nothing to worry about though, he just blinked his eyes open for a moment and glanced at Jason before slowly propping himself up by the arms. “Ah man, what time is it?” He said around a jaw cracking yawn. He didn’t wait for an answer, instead he dug around the couch cushions for his cell and squinted at the screen with a groan.

“Jason. I’ve been asleep for _four hours.”_

“‘Cause you’re _tired,”_ Jason said back with just as much grouch in his voice. “Didn’t we just talk about not sleeping enough?” 

Dick made an inarticulate noise and shoved his face in the throw pillow for a moment before finally dragging his feet off the couch and sitting up. He scrubbed his hands over his face roughly and then just sat there for a moment, arms resting on his knees, blinking at the room in a daze. 

Then he glanced down at the sandwich. “Is that for me?”

“Yup.”

“Chicken salad?”

“Yup.”

“Bless Alfred.” He leaned forward and started eating without another word. That is until he started moaning and groaning obnoxiously appreciative noises while he did so. Jason turned up the volume on the tv without looking until he finally pulled out his own throw pillow and threw it at him. 

“What is wrong with you?” Jason groused as it bounced off his shoulder and rolled off the couch. Dick let out a loud moan that dissolved into a laugh and then a cough. 

“I’m just enjoying my meal.”

“And about to make me upchuck mine.” Jason turned sideways on the couch, shoving his feet behind Dick’s back and laying down fully. “You hogged the couch all afternoon. My turn.” 

“Oh, gotta get comfy while you watch Treasure Hunters?” He said back with a full mouth.

“It’s interesting.”

“What season is this?”

Jason shrugged. “I don’t know....six?”

“And what’s the most interesting thing they’ve found, some old digging tools?”

“Hey, they’re getting closer every time.” 

Dick snorted and took another bite and they watched in silence for a while. When he finished his food he leaned back over Jason’s feet, effectively trapping him in place. 

A few minutes later a commercial came on and Dick cleared his throat ala Damian, making Jason tense. He’d been enjoying the relaxed atmosphere. Just the hint of another deep conversation made him want to crawl out of his skin. 

“So...I’ve gotta go back to Bludhaven on Thursday, for work.” 

Jason didn’t say anything, though it didn’t escape him that Dick had probably missed days being here, _for him._ It made him uncomfortable and he wasn’t sure how to respond and he hated that the idea of him leaving in two days made him anxious in some undefinable way. 

“So I was thinking,” he finally continued when Jason didn’t say anything, “we could have everyone for dinner tomorrow night, and...and tell them.” Dick glanced over at him then, his face calm and sure. “If that’s ok with you.” 

Jason looked at the tv, and then at Dick’s empty plate and then the ceiling. And then he shrugged, ignoring the clench in his chest. “Doesn’t matter when you do it. Sooner’s probably better than later, I guess.” 

He could see Dick nod in his peripheral vision and he put a hand down and squeezed Jason’s knee. “You don’t have to be there if you don’t want to.” 

“Yeah, you said Dick, it’s...” he continued staring at the ceiling, mind trying to wrap around both ideas. Of either sitting at the table during a _family meeting_ that was all about him and his issues with an ancient, cursed swimming pool, or alternatively everyone else talking about him while he wasn’t there to hear what they said, or see how they reacted.

Both gave him anxiety. But he worried, as the picture of each option came together in his mind, that if he was faced with anyone responded poorly, if anybody got upset or there was yelling or accusations - he wasn’t sure how he might react. Just the thought of it sent his heart pounding and he could feel the Pit there, like always now; whether it was pushing for control or not. 

“I think I’ll sit this one out,” he finally said, voice quiet, feeling suddenly bone deep weary. 

“Ok,” Dick said easily, giving his knee one more squeeze before he let go and faced the tv. “I can be back in a few days too, I’ve got another day off on Sunday.” He looked at Jason, eyes steady, a red line across his cheek from sleeping on the throw pillow. “You can call me, or text, in the meantime if you wanna talk...for any reason.” He shrugged at the end, dropping his head to the back of the couch. “You can update me on the new Treasure Hunters, let me know if they finally hit that jackpot.”

Jason shook his head against the armrest of the couch. “Nuh uh, you don’t respect these people’s life’s work. You don’t deserve to know if you won’t even watch their show.” 

Dick snorted out a laugh and rolled his eyes. “Ok Captain.”

“They’re not _pirates_ Dick, lordy-lou .” 

  
  


*

  
  


Somehow the act of watching tv all afternoon still left Jason exhausted before 11pm rolled around. His sleep schedule was all sorts of jacked up.

Or rather, he supposed it was normal now, after years worth of staying up until sunrise and sleeping through the afternoon. He didn’t know how the rest of them did it, still holding normal jobs. 

As he walked down the hall from the den toward the guest room that was currently his he wondered what he might do if he had a regular life. A _civilian life._ He hadn’t had one....well, not since before he died. 

The idea of it for a long time had felt almost laughable. The Red Hood working in a coffee shop or something....he supposed he could have gotten a job in private security but it felt too close to the _actual_ job and Jason wasn’t good at keeping his nose clean if anything smelled suspicious; so it probably never would have lasted. 

And maybe a job was jumping the gun anyway, he thought, as he rounded the door to his room, closing it behind him. He’d never graduated high school after all. 

He could’ve gone back to school though. Got his GED...maybe even started on a degree. If he wasn’t gonna be patrolling for a while, he’d certainly have the time now...

Except he couldn’t trust himself to sit in a classroom with a bunch of strangers at his back. He shook the thought away with a sour twist in his stomach as he dumped a set of pajamas on the bathroom counter and started the shower. 

There were maybe online courses, he supposed. But while it was something Jason thought he might want, it was hard to see why it would matter. He unwrapped the bandages around his knuckles and thought, really, who cared if the Red Hood graduated high school? Not like anybody knew who Jason Todd was anymore, other than the dead son of Bruce Wayne. 

He undressed quickly and stepped into the shower, ducking his head under the spray and scrubbing at his face.

It would make Alfred happy, though.

There was even an old memory Jason had of talking to Bruce about colleges, when he was 14 and just starting high school. Before he’d met Bruce the idea had seemed so far beyond possible he hadn’t even dreamed of it, but then suddenly, it was a sure thing, if he wanted it. He’d spent days researching campuses and figuring out what the admission requirements were for the better schools.

_“It’s not enough just to get good grades at some of these places B. You gotta like, join clubs and benefit your community and sh-stuff.”_

_“I know Jaybird, don’t worry too much about it, there’s plenty of things you can do. You could volunteer, if you wanted, help with some of the charity drives at WE.”_

_Jason smirked, giving Bruce a sidelong glance. “You think they’d accept it if I put Robin on my application? I mean, what better example of how much I care about my community could there be?”_

_Bruce hummed under his breath. “Funny Jay.”_

But there’d been that warmth to his tone Jason remembered preening at. When he knew he was fighting a smile. It felt like a different lifetime, Jason thought, rinsing his hair and letting the water run over his face. 

He didn’t let himself think of the before very often, but being in the house he grew up in, with the man who’d mostly raised him, it was hard not to remember some things. It was hard not to compare the Bruce of back then with the man he came back to, and with the man who’d asked him to stay. 

Quickly he scrubbed his body down, being careful of the water proof bandage still around the dog bite and carefully flexing his damaged knuckles under the hot water, letting it sting a little until it calmed. Turning the water off after he rinsed, he stood there for a moment before he dragged his towel off the shower curtain and dried off.

He was in pajamas and brushing his teeth a minute later, eyes half lidded and tired while his mind buzzed with so many things he couldn’t keep track of them. 

And then someone knocked on the bedroom door.

It would be nice if Jason’s stomach would stop rolling over itself every time someone wanted to talk to him. It would be especially nice if the Pit didn’t pulse quietly in the back of his mind, just as a little reminder. 

He rinsed and spit, ran his toothbrush under the water and set it to the side, scrubbed his hands through his hair, took a breath, and leaned out of the bathroom.

“You can come in,” he called, probably barely loud enough to be heard through the door. 

It cracked open, and then sat there for a second before Bruce pushed it the rest of the way, glancing around the room until his eyes settled on Jason.

“Oh good, you’re still up,” he said, standing there stiffly.

“Uh, yeah, just getting ready for bed.” Jason hated that he was already a little wary. Was Bruce there to force the issue? Did he want to talk about him staying?

“You need something?” He leaned on the doorframe, trying to be casual.

“I just wanted to...check in,” he said, still standing in the doorway. Jason blinked for a second, finally taking a step out of the bathroom and going to sit on the edge of the bed. He watched Bruce for a moment and the way his eyes followed him carefully across the floor.

“Ok...you can come in, if you want.”

Bruce seemed to relax immediately, the strain in his jaw disappearing as he stepped fully into the room. He didn’t completely close the door behind him but he set it gently against the frame and then joined Jason on the bed, sitting down slowly. He left a small gap between them, and was silent for an extended moment, hands resting on his knees and making Jason scratch uncomfortably at the back of his neck.

“I just wanted to talk about tomorrow,” he hesitated for a split second before continuing, “I have a pre-arranged meeting in the morning at 10 that I’d rather not reschedule. I thought we could meet afterward to...start things off. Around 11:30.” 

It didn’t sound like a question, but Jason knew Bruce well enough to hear it anyway. He looked up, meeting Bruce’s eyes directly for the first time since he came in the room, and he wondered if it was a WE thing or maybe something else. 

Maybe he was going to therapy.

Jason didn’t ask. 

“Hmm,” he put on a false thinking face, leaning back on his arms and trying not to be so uptight. “I’ll check my calendar and let you know.” Nervous, or whatever he was, with the currently unanswered question looming between them, he could still be a good actor occasionally. And for some reason, seeing Bruce so stiff and awkward didn’t make him feel as irritated as it might once have.

Jason caught the barest hint of a smile from the man, but more than that, he settled. He moved his hands to rest on the edge of the bed and leaned forward just a tad, crossing his feet at the ankles, spine curving just enough to look a little more comfortable. “We could meet beforehand, if you prefer, but I know we’re all late risers normally.”

“Nah, 11:30’s good. I’d rather not deal with you right after you wake up.”

Bruce gave an amused hum and turned to better face him, shifting one leg up onto the mattress. “I don’t blame you,” he said as his eyes darted over the book still laying on Jason’s nightstand. 

There was no comment made or question about whether he liked it or he’d started reading it yet. He just glanced away and back to Jason’s face, a subtle shift in his posture.

“I’m going out tonight,” he said a little hesitantly. “I would wait, but I haven’t been out in nearly two weeks and I’m concerned about a few new developments since I’ve been away.” His expression grew pinched, lips thinning and eyebrows drawing together the slightest bit.

“O....k?” Jason said back, confused by the _face_ and the apparent strain. 

“I wasn’t sure...” Bruce began, then hesitated. Jason frowned. 

When he spoke again he seemed to form his words carefully and deliberately. “You didn’t want to be alone last night.”

Jason felt his face heat in an instant.

“Dick is staying another night-“

“It’s fine,” Jason loudly interrupted, sitting up quickly and looking anywhere but at the other man in the room. 

He still saw him frown out of the corner of his eye. It was quiet for a long time and Jason resisted the urge to get up and pretend he had something to do just so he’d stop staring. “It’s fine, B. I’m fine. Last night was-...” his mouth stayed open but nothing else came out, embarrassment clogging his throat.

Jason was grateful, for the night before. He’d been losing pieces like an old mosaic and Bruce had caught each one. 

But he didn’t want to _talk_ about it. In fact he would much prefer to pretend it never happened until the next time he had a meltdown and then they could pretend that one never happened either. The way things were going it would probably be soon enough.

“Jay,” Bruce started again, a little more soft this time.

“Hm?” He studied his hands.

“I’m going to try to make a short night of it. I plan to be back before three. If you’re still up and you can’t sleep or you wake up and you’re nervous for any reason - come find me. Or call me during patrol if you need to.”

Jason didn’t say anything, just nodded at his knees, wishing Bruce would hurry up and leave and also kinda hoping he’d stay. After another long, drawn out silence Bruce stood slowly up from the bed.

“Dick’s staying in his old room, if you can’t wait. I didn’t say anything to him, but you know he’d be happy to keep you company, if you need it.”

“I’ll be fine, seriously.” 

“...ok,” Bruce said quietly. And then in one smooth motion he reach out and ruffled Jason’s hair.

It wasn’t like he’d never done it before. Or that Jason thought he was going to do something else. But it had been a _long_ time and it startled him. He flinched back without meaning to and Bruce went still, slowly withdrawing his hand with an expression Jason couldn’t parse. 

This could never work, he suddenly thought, flushing from the base of his neck to his ears. Even if they weren’t fighting it would always be like this, uncomfortable and stilted and Jason’s head was a clusterfuck yeah, but he didn’t need Bruce knowing all the gory details. 

“Sorry,” they both said at the same time, Jason staring at the floor. 

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” Bruce added, voice lacking any sort of tone. 

“It’s fine. Just reflex.” Jason shrugged and cleared his throat. “Anyway, you should probably get going, huh? Don’t want the kid to come searching for you.” 

Bruce hesitated, like he wanted to say more and Jason could feel his shoulders climbing up to his ears when he finally let out a barely audible sigh. “Yes. I’ll see you in the morning then.” 

“Sure thing,” he mumbled back. 

And then he watched, as Bruce turned toward the door and put his hand on the knob and Jason didn’t know why he flinched. Why he had to ruin every effort Bruce made, because it coulda been nice. He could’ve grumbled and batted his hand away like he could do with Dick sometimes. And now he probably wouldn’t ever try it again. 

“B,” he said, just as the man pulled the door open. He turned back quickly, eyes alert and Jason worried the fabric of his sweats and cleared his throat. “Be safe.”

His face did this thing, one Jason had a hard time defining but, where all the normally tense muscles relaxed and he looked soft. “I will. Goodnight Jaylad.”

And then he stepped out and shut the door behind him.

“Night,” Jason whispered to the empty room, closing his eyes and giving a single shake of his head. He drew a hand through his hair and tugged at his roots, trying to suppress the queasy, unsettled feeling in his stomach as he got up and turned off the lights.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you have it...Some brotherly bonding time and some extra awkward Bruce and Jason. They may have overcome a large hurdle, but it’s still not easy to navigate a mending relationship, especially when there’s extenuating circumstances at play....
> 
> Also that little “recording” mentioned is not canon, but it IS my headcanon for how Dick would have talked to Damian about killing, and how he feels about it general, in relation to the rest of his family.
> 
> anywho, hope to have the next chapter out in a week but we’ll see....
> 
> Chapter title from Grizzly Bear - Foreground


	18. The world is spinning like a weathervane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason meets with Bruce after a poor night’s sleep and finds the situation more complicated than he wishes it was.

Jason woke up tired. Which wasn’t exactly unheard of, but it felt particularly pronounced that morning. He didn’t have any disturbing night terrors but he tossed and turned the whole night, unable to stay asleep longer than an hour at a time. He felt like a zombie moving through breakfast and grunted his thanks to Alfred and ignored Dick and Damian while he sipped at coffee that was hot enough to burn all the way down. 

He didn’t see Bruce until he met him in the cave a few minutes past 11:30 and he wasn’t sure if the man came straight there when he got back from his appointment or if Jason was just out of it enough not to notice him come in. He was glad, at least, that he was too tired to get himself worked up about being _downstairs._

He’d been back in the cave plenty of times on business, even if he tried to keep it to a minimum. But it hadn’t been for any other reason for a long time. 

Bruce was dressed in training clothes when he entered the cave, no cowl in sight, and he started moving as soon as Jason had stepped into the medical bay. They started with the x-ray on his hand and Bruce made ominous noises at the results but ultimately said he’d be ok without a cast. 

“Just be careful with it. No hand to hand for at least two weeks.”

Jason grumbled about it, though he wasn’t sure why. He was fairly certain hand to hand combat was out of the picture for more than just two weeks, for other, more obvious reasons. 

After that he wanted to take a look at the bite and Jason rolled his eyes even as he stretched his arm out over the medical table and let Bruce peel back the bandage.

“Didn’t realize I was in for a full medical exam when I agreed to this.” 

Bruce didn’t look up as he inspected the now healing wound. It looked much better, a normal, healthy color, no inflammation, neat stitches that were all still in place, nothing popped or snapped. 

“Forgive me for keeping a close eye on it, given recent events,” Bruce mumbled under his breath as he grabbed a tube of antibacterial ointment and carefully dabbed it over the skin and covered it in a fresh bandage. “It looks good. The bandage can probably come off in a few days if it keeps healing well. The stitches can come out a few more after that,” He spoke almost to himself as he smoothed tape around the edges. 

The small wound where Jason had ripped his IV port out looked fine beyond the bruise still starkly visible.

“Is it sore?” B asked him, cupping his elbow carefully. 

Jason shrugged. “A little, but it’s fine.”

And then there were blood tests. It was about this time that the drowsiness muffling his anxiety began to fade and his nerves started to rise. There was nothing different about it, exactly, except that he had to sit on the medical cot and just be still for an extended period. 

He suffered through three vial draws in silence but he couldn’t stop from jiggling his leg while he sat there and Bruce hovered a little too close, leaning over his arm with an intense look of concentration. Finally, he detached the last vial and extracted the needle in a quick, smooth motion, pressing a cotton ball to the needle prick and placing Jasons hand over it. “Hold that in place for a minute or so, then it should be fine.” 

Then he pulled an already waiting juice box from a steel try and held it out to him. Jason very nearly laughed until he realized he was serious. 

“Uh, thanks,” he said, trying not to fumble it as he took it with his left hand while his right still pressed the cotton ball to his inner elbow. And then he sat there sipping Fruit Punch while he watched Bruce deposit each vial into a pod attached to a weird robot arm that retracted into a large, complicated looking machine before he went to the main computer, inputting Jason-didn’t-even-know-what.

“What are you uh...what are you looking for anyway?” 

Bruce didn’t turn to look at him when he answered, but continued to type. “Any sort of anomaly. We already know the Lazarus Pit leaves traces in the blood from previous tests-”

“You do?” Jason interrupted, a little shocked even though he probably shouldn’t be. Bruce did turn around then, swiveling slowly in his chair to give Jason a careful look. 

“Yes. It’s not obvious, and if you didn’t know what you were looking for you probably wouldn’t be able to identify it but after you-” Bruce paused, eyes darting across the floor for a split second, “after your initial return to Gotham I ran extensive tests on the samples I was able to gather. It took time but eventually I was able to isolate an unexplained anomaly.”

Jason shifted uneasily, taking a last, noisy sip of his juice and said the first knee jerk thing that came into his head, “and so you made the connection between blood test anomalies and the reanimation of your dead kid. Makes sense.”

Bruce’s face went utterly blank for long enough that Jason thought that it was maybe a bigger misstep than he’d anticipated. He should really hold back on the coping with humor schtick. They stared at each other in silence until finally Bruce stuttered back to life like he’d been rebooted and turned back to the computer. “It was only logical that there would be a connection between it and your reappearance,” he mumbled as he continued to type, confirming Jason’s comment without acknowledging it at all.

“I’m comparing the current samples to see if they look the same or if something has changed.”

Jason tried not to dwell on the blood thing, because he hadn’t known that. It made sense, of course, that something that could heal any injury, including the mind, would leave a permanent mark. Especially something that Jason was still feeling the effects of. It only made sense - but the idea that the Pit was there, physically flowing through his veins, made him kind of want to puke fruit punch all over the polished, concrete floors. 

He swiped a hand over his mouth and got up to grab a bottle of water from the mini fridge by the training mats, tossing the cotton ball as he went. When he turned back around Bruce was staring at him from the desk chair and he slowly got to his feet. “I thought we could use the mats for the next part,” he said, gesturing to the cushioned floor space. Jason rolled his shoulders, shrugged, and followed as Bruce walked past him to the center of the mats where they both sat down criss-cross on the floor. 

There was a small hardcover book to the side that Jason didn’t notice before and a tiny plastic storage container with a lid. He was curious but wary, not at all sure what to expect. 

“I know we talked about meditation,” Bruce said, as soon as they were both seated. “But, I’d like to start with that tomorrow, if that’s alright. Today, I would actually like to go over grounding techniques.”

Jason rolled his head over his shoulders, stretching his neck and flexing his right hand a couple times before resting them both on his knees. “Ok,” he said quietly.

Bruce watched him, eyes scanning over his posture carefully. Jason didn’t know what he saw but he seemed cautious. “Are you familiar with them?”

He made a face, unable to stop himself. “Am I familiar with them? Yes I know what _grounding techniques_ are.” It was either flippant humor of snapping, apparently. Jason wasn’t good at much in between.

“Alright,” Bruce said, voice placating. “I just don’t want to explain anything you already know or skip anything you don’t.”

Jason grunted in response, wishing they could skip this part.

“Do you have any you use now?”

His mouth went instantly dry.

There was no acting like he didn’t need them. Not with even the little that Bruce already knew. But knowing about it and talking about it were two very different things. Jason wasn’t sure how much he wanted to say and the longer he sat there not answering the more anxious he was starting to feel and he remembered Bruce mentioning talking about the Pit, specifically, and what it felt like to him and he couln’t- he wasn’t ready for that yet. If he ever would be, and now his heart was pounding and lord he was such a _mess._

“Uh...” Jason bit his lip, trying not to fidget.

“I like to do math,” Bruce said, when Jason didn’t continue. He leaned to the side, resting his weight on one palm and Jason faintly heard a flutter of bat wings somewhere in the distance. It took a moment for the words to sink in.

“You do math,” he deadpanned.

“Yes. There are different ways to do it but if I have my phone on me there’s an app that will generate random problems for you to solve. If I don’t, I choose a number and come up with five problems that will get me that result.”

“Freakin’ A, of course you do,” Jason mumbled, shaking his head and feeling bizarrely amused. 

The way Bruce hummed in response told Jason he probably knew he’d find it funny and it...it was nice. He wondered if he learned it in therapy, or if he’d been doing it before then. 

“You don’t have to tell me,” Bruce said when the quiet had stretched a little too long, “I just thought if there was something you already-”

“I listen to music, sometimes,” Jason blurted, wetting his lips and suppressing the very real anxiety that came with admitting this sort of thing.

But Bruce had.

“I have a candle I light, smells really strong,” he trailed off at the end, feeling a little dumb but not knowing why. Bruce nodded along.

“Those are both good. And if you’re at home and both are available to you, they’re great options. Anything that grabs your senses and can be distracting is good. But it’s a good idea to have something you can use when you’re not at home, especially something that doesn’t require having anything on you.” 

Jason listened, feeling a weird sense of dejavu hearing Bruce in teacher mode. He watched as he turned and picked up the book and then the little box. 

“There are a lot of techniques to learn, if you want to, over time. But I thought we could start here.” He held the book out toward Jason then, who took it slowly, eyes scanning the cover. 

“Poetry?” He blurted, surprised enough he couldn’t stop himself.

“It can help to memorize something, and recite it. It doesn’t have to be poetry, it could be a scene from Shakespeare or a longer quote from a movie or all three, eventually.

“But I remembered you liked this author.” He gestured toward the book and Jason looked down at it again, startled in a way he always was anytime Bruce said something casually like that. Like he remembered things about Jason, and thought about them. 

“And I didn’t want to overwhelm you with trying to find a story or book to choose from. This is a smaller collection. It’s better to choose a longer one if you can, or multiple short ones. But I’d like you to choose one or two to memorize.

“If you ever start to feel overwhelmed, or like you’re getting close to losing control, pull back, and recite what you learned until you can calm down again.”

Jason stared at the little book in his lap, fiddled with the cover, and swallowed. “Ok.”

It was E.E. Cummings. One of the first authors Jason had ever read poetry by, in a section of his English class when he’d been new at Gotham Academy. He’d loved it. And for a very short period of time he’d scribbled poetry into the margins of all of his notebooks until Dick had jokingly read one out loud at the dining room table on one of the few nights he’d come home and Jason had torn it up and thrown it away.

Dick had apologized later, but he didn’t seem to understand what exactly Jason had been so upset about.

Alfred had actually been pretty pissed, now that Jason remembered. It made him smile the tiniest bit and he had to swallow it when he looked back at Bruce, still holding the little box. 

When he saw he had Jason’s attention again he popped the top off and set it to the side. “These are basically just, little tricks and things you can take with you when you go out that might help.”

He pulled a tube of chapstick from the box and tossed it to Jason who caught it easily. It was pineapple flavored and when Jason took an experimental sniff of it he wrinkled his nose.

“I know. It’s very artificial,” Bruce said with an amused look. “But that’s really the point. Just like the candle you use, it can work the same way, if you’re not at home.”

Then he pulled out a pack of bright pink Bubble-Yum gum. “Same theory with this. I like to keep a few Reese’s cups in the Batmobile for the same purpose, but gum is less likely to melt or make a mess if you keep it on you.”

Jason picked the package up off the mat when Bruce set it down and eyed the familiar blue and pink wrapping and sort of, bizarrely, felt like crying. Again. 

“I usually just smoke, if it’s...bad enough.” He felt compelled to say it, for some reason.

He didn’t even have any cigarettes with him, and it seemed like nothing more than a way to start an argument; since he knew Bruce wouldn’t approve. But that was just who Jason was sometimes.

“If you...feel the need,” Bruce began, awkwardly, stiff mouthed like he was trying not to frown, “you’re an adult. It’s your decision...I would ask you not to around Damian, at least.”

Jason rolled the pack of gum back and forth between his hands. “I can do that,” he answered quietly. “I’m trying to quit, anyway, I don’t do it often just-” he swallowed, still staring at the book and when he glanced up B was looking at him with this concerned face. Jason sort of hated it. And it sort of made him feel better anyway. 

“Whatever you need,” he finally said back. “If you can’t quit right now that’s understandable. But I’d be happy to help if you want me to.”

Jason wasn’t sure exactly what that would entail but the idea that Bruce wasn’t making it a condition of him staying at the manor was revelation enough. He didn’t ask. 

“What else is in that box?” He asked instead.

Bruce looked down and pulled out something small and square, about the size of a gum-ball attached to a tiny metal key ring. “It’s...a fidget toy, basically. I got one for Cass and Damian too, though I don’t know what Damian did with his.”

He held it out then, dangling from the tiny metal chain and Jason took it, thinking that it seemed kinda dumb and that he could see why the brat might’ve just stuffed it somewhere. “Isn’t this something for little kids?” He asked, trying not to sound defensive.

There was a little rubberized button on one side, something that looked like the toggle to a light switch on another, and a metal ball that spun in place in all directions, little plastic spinning dials like the kind on a combination lock, and the last side with a squishy, gelatinous texture that reminded him of a stress ball. 

“No,” Bruce answered as he turned it over in his hands. “I don’t carry one with me because of my...reputation. But I keep one by the computer. It helps me concentrate.” He gestured back toward the lab and computer equipment and Jason knew he wouldn’t be able to see it from where he was but he looked anyway. 

All of this screamed _therapy_ to Jason in a bizarre mirror-universe sort of way. 

He almost said something, right then. Almost asked about it. But he wasn’t sure if he was even supposed to know. Bruce never said anything to him, and Dick was the first one to even hint at it and maybe there were other people that didn’t know either and he didn’t want to overstep. He was nervous. For whatever this would end up being. 

It had turned out mostly ok so far and he didn’t want to rock the boat with Bruce or with himself and broaching the topic felt very unsafe, somehow. 

“That’s all I have in my current box of tricks,” Bruce said, flipping over the little container for show and setting it to the side. “But I think they could help.”

“Thanks,” Jason said, picking up the box he had set to the side and setting back all three items.

Bruce’s posture shifted, not in a particularly noticeable way but it somehow screamed _uncomfortable_ to Jason and he had to resist the urge to pick up the fidget toy immediately. 

“Dick mentioned that you gave your permission, to tell everyone. About this.”

Jason pursed his lips and nodded, eyeing the punching bag across the way and kind of wishing he could go at it for a bit, hating that he couldn’t for at least a week until his hand healed. 

“I asked Alfred to invite everyone to dinner tonight.”

Jason snapped his eyes up, feeling his heart rate climb. He had already talked to Dick about it the day before so he sort of knew that would be the plan, but Bruce suddenly bringing it up made him instantly nervous. 

“We could postpone,” Bruce started, seeming to recognize Jason’s anxiety.

“No,” he cut in, “no, that’s...it’s better to just get it over with.”

“If you’re sure,” B said back slowly, hands resting flat on the tops of his thighs. 

“I still haven’t decided,” Jason blurted then, “So don’t - me saying you guys could tell them wasn’t me agreeing to stay so-” as the words were coming out of his mouth Jason thought, _I sound so stupid._ He just let Bruce check his wounds, x-ray his hand, take his blood, and give him a mini lesson in grounding techniques to stave off panic attacks, flashbacks, and Pit episodes in turn. He gave him a book of poetry and a pack of bubblegum and he was - _nice_ \- about the whole thing.

He didn’t make him feel stupid, or damaged, or like any of this was his fault. It felt like, logically, he should be easing to the idea but it still put a rock in his stomach to think about.

“I know,” Bruce assured him, voice quiet, though he didn’t look happy. “You don’t have to decide right away. You can think about it. This isn’t a limited time offer so don’t....” Bruce swallowed, “you don’t have to rush to a decision.”

Jason took a deep breath through his nose and tried to loosen up his shoulders, staring down at the little box and the book in his other hand and feeling really damn tired all of a sudden. He wished this was all just _easier._

“Ok. I’ll...” He huffed a breath, “I’ll find something to eat before everyone gets here.”

“Alright.” Bruce nodded and an awkward silence stretched so long that Jason finally pushed himself up off the mats and stood. He figured he was done and if he wasn’t Jason’s nerves couldn’t wait around forever. 

Bruce followed his lead and moved smoothly to his feet as well. He looked like he was thinking something but Jason didn’t have the mental energy to parse it out right then. He was still so damn tired. 

“I’m gonna take a nap,” he said, tucking the book under one arm. And he must have looked as tired as he felt because Bruce looked relieved.

“Of course. Let me know which poem you choose. I’ll memorize it with you.”

Jason grunted his assent as he turned toward the stairs but the comment didn’t fully register until he was a few steps away and he felt himself flush, not knowing how to feel.

He held the little box close to his chest and escaped up the stairs, down the hall, and back to the guest room.

  
  


*

  
  


Somewhat shockingly, he fell asleep easily. He even stayed asleep for a solid two hours before he woke up the first time. He rolled over and dozed for a few more minutes and woke up again and repeated the same process two more times before he finally sat up on the bed. 

He glanced at the nightstand where there was now a small pile of things he’d accumulated in the last three days. 

And Lord, it had only been three days. It felt like weeks already, but for the parts that felt like seconds. 

Shifting himself into sitting criss-cross on the bed, Jason grabbed the fidget toy and the book of poetry and he messed with the little light switch toggle while he flipped through the first couple pages. 

Bruce was in therapy.

The thought sprang into his mind, as it had been doing, each time a little louder somehow.

It wasn’t something Jason had ever thought he’d hear. He even...when Babs had told him she could find him someone to talk to he’d assumed if Bruce found out he’d be kicked off patrol. Written off as unstable.

It all seemed way too far outside what Jason knew of the man but then, he had seemed different hadn’t he? First the messages, and the phone calls, waking up in the tub, being read to...talking to him about grounding techniques.

Jason saw the difference. It wasn’t in a way he could quite pin down. Because he seemed different yeah, but also...familiar. Like Dick had said. He was like the Bruce Jason remembered as a kid. The one who’d taken him in, who taught him that people weren’t all out for themselves, that some people really cared, that there was good out there.

When Jason came back, that Bruce had been gone. Back then Jason put it to his own naïveté. He had been an innocent kid who wanted to see the good in the world and Bruce was the first person after his mom died to give him anything like a chance. Every other good feeling, all of that, he’d put it to the blindness of youth, to blissful ignorance. He’d thought it was him who’d changed, not Bruce. That the only difference between before and after was that Jason was seeing things more clearly.

It couldn’t have been that Bruce was so damaged by Jason’s death that he...that it changed him so much. Jason closed his eyes, feeling the room spin.

He’d known.

Really Jason had known for a long time.

When his head started to clear and the differences were harder to write off he’d told himself to forget it, that he was being stupid, just seeing what he wanted to see. And then slowly things had gotten better and he’d started to believe the Bruce of before. But he’d told himself that years had gone by. Bruce had aged and it was all a natural progression of cynicism and the side effects of being Batman.

That was partly true, Jason was sure. But he wondered sometimes, now, if it was his own death that had been the initial break in the chain. 

Maybe it had hurt Bruce as much as it had hurt him.

He thought back to months earlier as he flipped a page, to the explosion on the docks. He remembered Bruce’s harsh voice, the rasp of it when he gripped his arms tight enough to bruise and tried to get him to come back to the cave.

His head had been reeling. Memories of smoke and pain and the feeling of his broken ribs grinding over each other clawing up his spine, trying to beat their way into his head. He hadn’t even considered it, hadn’t given more than a fleeting thought to Bruce’s demands or his harsh voice. Getting out of there before he fell to pieces was his first priority and so he’d fled. Just barely caught a glimpse of Bruce staring after him, looking for him in the shadows around the docks.

Jason had been a mess that night. Nightmares keeping him awake, jitters so strong he couldn’t hold a cup of coffee. He’d ended up on the phone with Roy for two hours, Kori chiming in here and there, trying to talk through static and shitty signal until they couldn’t make out each other’s words anymore and Jason had been forced to fend for himself. 

He wondered now, what Bruce’s night had consisted of. If matching nightmares had chased him away from sleep. 

But then there were months before that too. Being brought on some secret mission only to find out it was fake. It was a trick. A trap even. To bring him back to his lowest point, try to drag out any useful information because the rest of him - just didn’t matter, apparently.

Jason swallowed, blinking at the words on the page he wasn’t reading. His stomach twisted hard around the memory, trying to reconcile it with the other parts of Bruce he knew. 

Part of why it had hit so hard back then was because he’d been so surprised. Even as it all took shape and Jason realized what was going on. Bitterly, he thought later, he should have seen it coming.

But he hadn’t.

Jason had heard jokes more than once, and made them himself, about Bruce needing therapy. About all of them. They were flippant, throw away comments even when they were bitter and hurt because it seemed like such an impossibility.

Beyond impossible to Jason, the whole idea seemed laughable. Like therapy actually _helped._ He’d seen his share of psychologists in Arkham and when they weren’t outright sinister they were utterly inept.

Maybe they could help a normal person with their crap. Maybe even soldiers and victims of every kind of crime, but this shit? How do you fix someone’s brain when they’ve died and come back? 

Jason felt like a lost cause but he’d put it all out of his head because he wasn’t the only one.

They were all a mess; trauma and poorly suppressed memories stuffed inside skin that wore a little too thin some days. Jason wasn’t as special anymore as he once was, and he took a perverse sort of comfort in that. That no matter what they all thought of him - none of them were better. At least that’s what he tried to tell himself. 

Bruce was, to varying degrees depending on the given day, the penultimate example. Jason could tell himself he didn’t feel weak, or overwhelmed, or need help because Bruce muscled through it all on his own and Jason was nothing if not a match for him. Anger and spite drove him more often than not and on the days when it ran out...

When Babs had offered to find him a counselor he’d been insulted. Angry that she would assume he couldn’t handle things on his own, that he would ever need more help than any of the rest of them. Defensive of his own inability to muscle through a problem that was proving harder than he thought it should. 

But Babs had seen someone after what happened to her. And Dick, though he never talked about it, Jason was pretty sure he saw someone for a while too. He didn’t know about the others. 

And now there was Bruce. And therapy was one thing but maybe that meant...that it was ok for Jason to need the help. 

And then he was furious, with himself and with Bruce because what did that have to do with anything? What did Bruce’s problems have to do with Jason? Why was he always waiting around looking for his approval even when it was the last thing he supposedly cared about and why did he end up here, crying into his shoulder and sleeping in his _bed_ when he was still so pissed off about what happened in-

Jason sucked in a shuddering, gasp of breath and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyelids. 

He acted like nothing hurt. Like Bruce could dole out whatever anger and bluster and Jason could laugh in his face over it. But that - that had ruined him for _weeks._

Jason wanted this to work.

In spite of all the bullshit and the wounds on both sides, he wanted Bruce to be his dad again and to have a family he - _fuck_ he loved him. Jason knew he did and sometimes he hated himself for it because he wanted to be able to let it all go and leave it behind because even when Bruce cared, even when he pet his hair and told him he would do whatever he could to help, that he wanted Jason around and he loved him - Jason wanted to believe him but he didn’t trust him. And he was tired of the rug getting yanked out from under him. 

But now Bruce was in therapy. He was getting help, working on himself. So was that supposed to fix it? Take them back to the days of before?

Jason was relieved, and he was grateful for the things Bruce had done for him when he was a kid. For the good memories, and for what he was offering now. But it didn’t erase all the other shit and Bruce said he knew that but Jason wasn’t so sure he understood.

And God he was getting worked up just thinking about it and he - he couldn’t do that. Jason couldn’t get worked up like this. He couldn’t actually talk to Bruce about any of this because he would lose his cool so fucking fast but if he wanted to stay here, which was still a scary thought, he didn’t know how it would work. Not with him feeling like this all the time. The constant yo-yoing from relieved and content to angry and anxious and back again. It just didn’t seem like it could work.

Whatever Dick thought and Bruce hoped, Jason...Jason didn’t know. 

He was tired of the distance, of what felt like a gaping chasm between him and the rest of the family. And maybe they could make the gap smaller. They already had, he thought. But he was scared of the nearness too. Of what it could mean if he got too close. 

Living in this house again? Jason knew himself and he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep up the barriers he had in place for a reason. Not with everyone so close all the time. Not with Bruce always around. 

Jason kept physical distance because he knew he wasn’t good at keeping emotional distance without it.

All of it felt so damn heavy in his chest it left him dragging in slow, shuddery breaths into tight lungs until he let out a frustrated groan and flipped the book shut, shoving it out of his lap and tossing the fidget toy on the cover. He breathed deep and he tried to just - to stop thinking about it. 

This wasn’t anything he should be focusing on, the Pit had to come first. Jason couldn’t focus on his stupid personal issues when he was a danger to everyone around him. That was more important. Bruce wanted to help, and Dick wanted to help, and maybe the others would too. And Jason had that. Whatever else happened he at least had that. 

  
  
  


*

  
  
  


The next three hours were just aimless distraction. 

Damian had texted during Jason’s nap and he’d ended up missing Titus’s walk which left him unreasonably upset. The kid had said he might not take him on one today but Jason should have known better. 

He could’ve still gone and found the dog. Taken him out himself if he really wanted but there was always the chance of running into someone else if he went anywhere in the manor and as the day wore on and dinner time grew closer and closer he just couldn’t stomach it. 

Not until his actual stomach pushed him to get something to eat. He’d basically skipped lunch and he wasn’t attending dinner and he was probably already giving Alfred an ulcer with the antibiotics on top of everything else. No one told him a set time to expect everybody to arrive and so as late as he felt safe escaping to the kitchen he went looking for food. 

There was a fifty fifty shot that Alfred would be in the kitchen or not. Either he’d be prepping for dinner or he’d be at the store getting the ingredients, but Jason couldn’t exactly wait and see. And of course, with Jason’s luck, the butler was there.

He didn’t turn around right away when he entered the room but Jason was certain he knew he was there. Bruce may have gotten most of his training from outside sources but it all started with this man. 

“Hey,” Jason said quietly, still standing in the doorway, not wanting to be rude by ignoring him but not really wanting to talk either. Finally, he took an awkward step into the kitchen toward the fridge when Alfred looked back at him from the stove.

“Master Jason, glad to see you haven’t actually disappeared.”

Jason hummed something half amused as he opened the fridge, staring at the contents but not really seeing them.

“I could fix you a snack, perhaps, and make you a plate when this is ready,” came Alfred’s voice from the other side of the kitchen. 

Jason didn’t think Alfred would ask him anything difficult, but the nostalgia of being in the kitchen with him put Jason in a weird headspace even before all of this. But he also knew Alfred would be disappointed if he turned him down. And that he might not have too many opportunities like this is in the future.

He took a breath, head hidden behind the fridge door, and finally stepped back and closed it. “Sure, what are you making?”

Jason came around the island to see asparagus in bundles on the counter next to a cutting board, a cookie sheet out on the stove top, olive oil and garlic, a large chopping knife, and a few other things still in paper bags and out of sight. 

“I was going to prepare some lemon rosemary salmon with asparagus and pasta with cherry tomatoes in a light olive oil sauce. I have hit a bit of a road block for master Damian however.”

He stood back from the counter, staring at his ingredients with a small frown. “I cannot seem to think of a suitable protein substitute for the salmon. I’m afraid I’ve made bean based dishes three times already this week and I am simply drawing a blank.” 

Jason eyed the ingredients he could see and peeked in the paper bags sitting out and then scratched the back of his head. He was pretty sure he’d spotted a few key ingredients in the fridge earlier. 

“What if you just added some more veggies and some mushrooms to the pasta? I spotted zucchini in the fridge and Greek olives. Little extra garlic, some onions...maybe some basil? I bet it’d be good.” 

Alfred tilted his head a fraction to the side and hummed under his breath. “How I’ve missed having you in my kitchen.” He reached out and patted Jason’s hand and he blinked back a barrage of old memories of standing right where he was, about two feet and 100 pounds ago. 

“One will never go hungry with a creative mind in the home.” Alfred stepped around him, going back to the fridge and pulling out a number of more ingredients. “How would you like some peppers and hummus for a snack? I made some for master Damian a few days ago and I’m afraid I’ll have to throw it out if the rest isn’t eaten soon.”

“Sure,” Jason said, still standing there, unmoving. He watched as the old man set out two tupper ware containers and popped the lids off, pushing them toward the edge of the island toward Jason. 

“No double dipping, just in case.” He lifted an eyebrow and Jason ducked his chin. 

“Hey, I grew out of that and you know it.”

“What I know is that hungry boys tend to lose their manners.” 

Jason snorted, feeling nostalgia so strong it was like watching an old movie - faded with time but still so real. He took his place by the counter, mostly out of the way, and dipped the first slice of pepper, watching Alfred move about the kitchen in efficient, organized movements. 

“So why didn’t the brat finish your hummus? If he’s being snotty I can set him straight.” 

Alfred chuckled to himself as he began chopping the ends off the asparagus.

“No, no, he’s quite alright. I think he humors me when I try the more traditional foods. No matter how authentic the recipes claim to be I’m afraid they never taste quite how he remembers.”

Jason took another bite, tasting the tangy mixture of lemon and garlic and some spice he couldn’t quite identify, not really knowing how to respond. He understood. 

For the life of him Jason still liked boxed Kraft Mac ‘n Cheese because his mom used to make it for him when he was little. There were traditional foods Dick had as a kid that were impossible to even find recipes for.

At least for Jason when he was feeling nostalgic he could just go out and buy a box. He wondered if Tim or Cass had anything like that.

“Well, I think it’s delicious.” 

Alfred glanced back with an amused twitch of his mustache. “I have never known you to be overly critical of my cooking.”

Jason shrugged, still stuffing his face. “I know good food when I taste it.”

“Yes, I dare say you do,” Alfred mumbled, making Jason smile around his next bite. He finished the peppers and didn’t want to eat anymore in fear of ruining his appetite. And so, he stood there awkwardly, looking around at the new appliances that weren’t there when he was a kid. Some fancy mixer that was probably a gift from Bruce or one of the others. Some new dishes too, a bright orange tea kettle. 

“I could help, if you wanted.” The words left his mouth before he really thought about them and he only had a moment to think, _what the hell are you doing?_ before Alfred paused in his chopping.

He picked up a dish towel that was folded neatly on the counter top and wiped off his hands before turning around. “If you’d like.”

“Sure,” Jason said, going around to the sink to wash his hands. “Just tell me what you want me to do.”

And so he was set to rinsing, peeling, and chopping veggies and mushrooms while Alfred prepared the fish and put the asparagus in the oven. 

He put a large pot of water on to boil for the pasta and then went about cleaning up the kitchen while Alfred was dealing with the fish, loading the dishwasher and wiping down the counters. They fell into a quiet routine, moving around each other easily, like they’d done it a million times.

When the salmon finally went in the oven and the pasta was started, Jason was wringing a washcloth in the sink and Alfred turned to him. 

“I think the standard reward is in order?”

“Hm?” Jason blinked a moment, looking up in confusion as the butler walked around the island to the fridge. Grabbing a foot stool tucked in a corner, he stepped up on it and opened the cabinet above the fridge. It mostly held the lesser used service dishes and platters. But, there was also a little known candy stash.

“I know there are some in here,” Alfred muttered to himself as he pulled out multiple bags of candy that Jason didn’t recognize. Gummy worms, peanut butter cups, a miscellaneous package of fun sized candy bars.

None of that had been there when Jason was around, he was sure. “Ah, here they are.”

Carefully, Alfred removed a royal blue plastic bag with a rubber band tied around the top and came down from the step stool. Jason felt like someone’d punched him in the stomach when he saw it.

The kitchen was an old haunt of Jason’s; a place to hide away from Bruce in the beginning, when he hadn’t known what the man really wanted from him. Slowly though, once things had settled down and Jason had gotten comfortable, it was just a place to relax. A place he hung around with Alfred. Where he learned to cook, where he’d help with the dishes and hear about old balls and galas. Some of the more ridiculous members of high society. Jason had probably learned more gossip about the Gotham elite than even Bruce back in the day.

But there had been this little tradition. One Jason had forgotten until now, watching as Alfred wrestled the top open and reached inside. “I think two for today.” He pulled out three butterscotch candies, neatly tucked in their matching royal blue wrappers. Jason reach out on reflex when Alfred moved to hand them to him. 

He dropped two in Jason’s palm and pulled back. “And one for myself I think.” And Alfred must have been able to see the stark surprise on his face because he gave him a soft look then. 

“Don’t look so surprised. The manor has never been the same without you. I dare say this would be worth celebrating if it weren’t for the particular circumstances.” 

“Circumstances,” Jason echoed, voice hollow. 

Alfred watched him closely for a moment, old eyes still sharp as ever. “My boy,” he said in a hushed voice, “I am aware of the situation. I requested to be informed before the others arrived. Forgive me for not following the set protocol. I’m afraid I did not wish to be blind sided with everyone else in the room.”

“You-“ Jason stared, palm still held up, cupping the two candies like they were made of glass. “Alfie,” he choked out, lowering his arm but never closing his hand. 

“We’ve had our fair share of terrible surprises,” the butler went on when Jason didn’t seem to be able to, eyes casting to the floor as a crease of worry appeared between his brows. “I will admit to a certain amount of anxiety that it might be something to do with your health. Master Bruce was able to allay my fears, thankfully.”

Jason swallowed, feeling a rush of relief tangled in with all his churning upset. “This isn’t....a small thing. You don’t know-”

“Hush.” Alfred reached out again, candy still clutched in his left hand, and gripped both of Jason’s wrists. He sounded almost annoyed and his blue eyes were piercing, flitting back and forth between Jason’s with a suddenly severe frown. “If you think anything is big enough to make me unhappy to have you then you’re not nearly as intelligent as I’ve always thought.” 

Jason could swear he wasn’t this big of a crybaby a month ago but he couldn’t seem to stop his lip from trembling or hold back the sting in his eyes. And then Alfred’s annoyed expression shifted to something sad and he let out a quiet breath. “You foolish boy,” he whispered as he took one last step forward. 

Jason was a good few inches taller than Alfred now, but he still felt like an awkward kid when the man folded him into a hug; like he didn’t know what to do with his arms. It was brief, like any kind of physical affection from him, but it was warm and tight. Bony arms with a wiry strength that could still make Jason feel like he was _home._

He pulled back and Jason sniffed, wiping at his nose and clearing his throat. 

Somehow, of course, he felt compelled to ruin the moment. “Did he tell you I was staying? Because I haven’t agreed to anything yet.” 

Alfred frowned and shook his head. “No,” he said softly, squeezing Jason’s elbows. “I only meant I’m glad to have you here, for however long you choose.”

“Oh,” Jason swallowed again, feeling the crinkle of the candy wrappers still clenched in his fist. “I don’t know if I-“ He wasn’t sure where he was going with the sentence, trailing off to nothing.

“I know,” Alfred said, just above a whisper. 

And it was ok. It settled something tangled up inside of him but he looked so _sad_ when he said it that Jason just felt bad. He wanted to say something, but he didn’t know what and then suddenly there was a loud beeping and Jason flinched. 

“Oh dear,” Alfred mumbled to himself, distracted as he turned back to the stove where the timer on the oven was chiming loudly and the water for the pasta was about to boil over. The older man cleared his throat and when he spoke next his voice was clear and composed. “I’ll make you a plate. The others will be arriving soon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: There isn’t anything in particular I can think of in this chapter. there is discussion of grounding techniques but just a brief mention of panic attacks and/or flashbacks.
> 
> _____________
> 
> Another chapter down! I’m sorry the ending is so abrupt. I was going to continue it and just make it a longer chapter but I realized th next good stopping point would have put this chapter at over 10k and I just really don’t like to go past that word count if I can help it.....that being said I’m over 1k into the next chapter already! So hopefully I’ll have it out a little faster than this one.
> 
> Chapter title from Hurricane by Fleurie


	19. It takes a while but we can figure this thing out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The cat is finally out of the bag, it goes both better and worse than Dick was expecting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 19 is here! This story is going to end up being 200k words. I’m a disaster. I don’t think there are any significant warnings this chapter...

Jason watched as Alfred pulled the salmon and asparagus out and drained the pasta, adding the cooked tomatoes and the rest of the sauce, setting aside a large portion for Damian. His plate was made quickly and Jason wasn’t sure if he should eat it in the kitchen or take it back to his room when the buzzer for the intercom at the front gate went off, meaning somebody was there, requesting access instead of going through the cave.

” _Alfreeeeeed_ ,” Came Stephanie’s voice through the tinny sounding speaker by the grandfather clock.

“Ah,” the butler let out a soft sigh. “I suppose it is good people are arriving on time,” he said as he walked to the corner of the kitchen and held a hand up to the button that would open the gate. “Hello Miss Stephanie, I believe we have given you the code to the gate multiple times now, but I will let you in this once.” He pressed the release and a loud buzzer could be heard followed by a short, sing song, _“thank you!”_

Jason stood there, holding his plate and a set of silverware, candy still clutched in the same hand, probably beginning to melt now, feeling absent, wondering if he should try to stick it out through dinner.

But waiting as each person arrived, one by one, knowing what the little announcement was going to be...his palms started sweating.

“Master Jason.”

His head snapped to Alfred, still standing by the intercom, waiting for more arrivals no doubt. “Things will work out. I’m quite sure of it.”

“Yeah,” Jason said back, voice hushed. He heard the front door open and close in the near distance, laughter echoing in the entryway. Alfred headed that direction, pausing in the doorway toward the front of the house and looking back at him for a split second.

Jason turned and left the room without another word, back down the hall before anyone could see him and wonder where he was going, or worse, ask how he was feeling.

He took his plate back to the guest room and passed Dick and Damian in the hallway. “Hey.” Dick smiled and slowed like he might say more but Jason just grunted as he walked by, making a flash of eye contact with the kid before slipping into the bedroom and shutting the door behind him.

 _“What is he doing?”_ Jason heard through the door in Damian’s signature disgruntled tone.

_“Nothing Little D. Come on, dinner’s starting. You know how Alfred gets if you’re late.”_

_“And yet Todd does not have to attend at all.”_ Their voices moved further down the hall and that was the last Jason could make out as he set his plate on the desk, two little candies set down next to it, and pulled out the chair. He paused and grabbed _The Secret Garden_ off the nightstand before he sat down and forced himself to eat and not think about the dinner everyone else was having, hoping, absently, that his room didn’t smell like fish for days after this.

He wondered if he’d get to go on that walk with Damian the next day.

If the kid would even want to see him. The thing was, he’d probably find him even if he didn’t because he’d never admit that it made him nervous.

Jason sighed, taking a bite of asparagus. It was ridiculous in a way, because he’d never had the lot of them before.

He had been on his own.

Maybe they wanted him around but he was too angry and hurt to see it or care for too long and by the time he might have wanted it he’d been ignoring everyone for so long outside of patrol that they weren’t reaching out much anymore.

Which was fair. If Jason got rejected every time he invited someone somewhere he’d probably stop asking too. He’d told himself he didn’t care. That he was glad and he’d wanted them to stop the whole time anyway because he didn’t need them pretending they wanted him around. But it was all bullshit and it always had been.

And now he was here, and as he sat in a separate room from everyone else, eating his dinner in silence he couldn’t lie to himself anymore.

He’d seen all of them, reaching out to him, again, even when he was an asshole about it. Offering to help, trying to check on him, ready to talk at a moments notice. It felt real and he couldn’t tell himself it wasn’t and he just- he didn’t think they would all turn on him or anything.

Not anymore, at least.

But he thought it might be hard to want him around. That they might not trust him as much, that he’d make them nervous.

Tim was always the pragmatic one, he thought. He’d understand the danger.

He might even be angry that Jason had lied. He’d technically put them all at risk by not admitting the truth to start with. If he hadn’t been sick he could have done some serious damage even to Bruce before he got things under control and everyone else would have been asleep. Nobody would have known or come to help.

Jason shuddered at the thought of what could have happened.

As he finished his meal, feeling uncomfortably full and unable to fully appreciate Alfred’s cooking, he wished he could just go to sleep again but he knew he wouldn’t be able to. Not this early, especially not after napping earlier in the afternoon.

Instead he picked up the book off the desk, took it to the window seat and kept reading. Of course he’d read _The Secret Garden_ before, it wasn’t something new to him. But that was kind of nice, because he’d had enough upheaval and he just wanted something easy.

The room Jason was staying in was on the third floor and looked down on the front of the grounds along with the winding drive that approached the main door. He didn’t realize it had started raining until he looked up from the page to see a little blue Honda parked in the drive and the window pain was covered in water droplets. The snow outside had half melted to little piles around the trees and shrubs and he could just barely make out the glitter of it in the setting sun.

There was a weightless sensation in his stomach, like anticipation. Like the feeling as you’re cresting the top of a rollercoaster. He wasn’t afraid exactly, but he was not looking forward to the fall. Nerves twisted up in his belly and he regretted eating as much as he had.

Bruce probably wouldn’t waste any time.

Which was good, Jason was telling himself. After this drawn out shit show it was better to rip off the bandaid.

He went back to reading, ignoring what could be taking place in the dining room or wherever else. It wasn’t an easy thing to do, but it was old hat for Jason to use books as distraction, going way back to when his parents used to scream at each other in the living room while he hid in his own.

There was no real escaping this but he could pretend for a while.

*

Dick, if he was honest with himself, was a little nervous.

He wouldn’t let on of course, but as he ushered Damian out of the den he couldn’t help but worry about the conversation ahead of them.

“I am going Grayson. You do not need to Push.” Damian yanked his shoulder out of Dick’s grip, stepping ahead of him just enough not to be in reach.

Dick lifted his hands in surrender. “Forgive me, I didn’t realize I was pushing.”

Damian only grunted and straightened his shirt as if he had pulled it out of shape.

There was shuffling down the hall and Dick looked up to see Jason, full plate of food in hand, walking toward the guest room he’d been set up in. He looked tired, and Dick could see a hint of red around his eyes and he couldn’t tell if it was just the exhaustion or something else and he wanted to say something.

Some sort of encouragement, something to ease the tension Dick could see in his entire body. “Hey,” he started, opening his mouth to say more, though he wasn’t sure what. But his brother just grunted as he walked past, avoiding his eyes as he glanced at Damian and then disappeared into his room, shutting the door behind him.

Dick squeezed his hands into fists and then released. Seeing Jason strung so tight with anxiety and _fear_ made Dick want to just wrap in him a blanket and take him on a vacation.

“What is he doing?” Damian asked, disgruntled as he stared at the bedroom door with a scowl.

“Nothing Little D. Come on, dinner’s starting. You know how Alfred gets when you’re late.”

Dick reached out, about to put a hand on his youngest brother’s shoulder and then, at the last second, let it drop.

“And yet Todd does not have to attend at all,” Damian turned his head just the slightest bit to look behind them as they drew further away from the room and Dick held in a sigh.

“He’s still tired out from everything, give him a break.”

Damian shot him a glare but didn’t respond and apparently Jason’s anxiety was contagious because now Dick was nervous about the Pit too, and what it could mean. He’d already lost his brother once and he wasn’t sure he could think of a worse way for it to happen another time.

He shook his head as his stomach dropped, forcing himself to swallow it down and put on a brave face. They had found solutions to impossible problems a thousand times over. More than one of them had come back from the dead, some from being lost in time. They could handle some murky green water.

He just hoped to anyone listening that no one reacted as poorly as they could at dinner that night.

He was particularly concerned about Tim. Damian in his own way too, but for different reasons. Really though, all of them sort of made Dick nervous despite his confidence when speaking with Jason. He didn’t think any of them would be upset necessarily, but their opinions about the right way to handle the situation would probably differ...greatly.

Not for the first time he wondered if doing this with everyone in the same room was a terrible idea, but telling people separately was a recipe for hurt feelings over who was told first and who was kept in the dark the longest and - and Dick had been on the other side of that enough times he just knew this was the best option.

For once, Bruce had agreed with him, miracle of miracles.

Dick wasn’t sure if it was because he was trying to stop being so controlling and allowing everyone to do this together meant he couldn’t microanalyze all of their reactions and catalogue it for future reference or decide to give some more information than others...or if the man was just overwhelmed enough by the situation that he was willing to let Dick take the reigns.

Or it could be that he trusted Dick’s judgement. Or all of the above. Either way he wasn’t going to question it.

Almost everyone was there when they reached the table and Dick internally sighed in relief at the seating arrangement. On the left side of the table Cass sat in the middle with Tim on her left and the spot on her right left open, absent a chair, obviously reserved for Babs. Stephanie sat on the other side of the table, with two empty seats next to her that Dick knew were meant for Damian and him.

The head of the table was of course reserved for Bruce and Alfred would be in and out for a while before he finally determined everything was taken care of and he could sit with them. He would probably take the seat on Tim’s other side since it was nearest to the kitchen.

It was such a tiny thing, and all such ridiculous little politics, like their family was a miniature government, purposely seated in a fashion that was the least likely to cause friction between members. It was probably Alfred who’d tallied it all up and Dick sent a silent prayer of thanks to the man.

Damian took the seat next to Stephanie with only a small frown and a nudge from Dick and Bruce entered the room just as they were both sitting down.

Alfred stepped in with a pan of asparagus and set it in the center of the table. “Miss Barbara should be here in the next few minutes, she called ahead to say she was running behind and to go ahead and start without her,” he frowned a little as he said it, and Dick knew it went against his strongly entrenched manners to do so but it had been long enough with mismatched schedules and missed meals that he’d gotten used to it.

“In that case,” Stephanie said, already leaning forward to serve herself as Alfred was going back for the salmon, followed by a large pot of pasta and separate, smaller pot for Damian.

“So how was the sleepover?” Dick asked, hoping to ease everyone into conversation. “Did you make any progress on your case?”

Tim half shrugged, mouth full. He swallowed roughly and opened his mouth only for Cass to elbow him in the shoulder. “No work talk.”

“That is quite correct,” Alfred tacked on as he surveyed the table and finally took the seat on Tim’s other side, beginning to serve himself. “I think that rule has been established for some time now.” He gave Dick a single raised eyebrow and he put his hands up in surrender.

“Alright, sorry. Stephanie then, how are your classes?”

She grunted from Damian’s other side, “new rule _I’m_ making, don’t ask me about school.”

“Oops, ok.” Dick immediately wished Babs was there already. If nothing else, he could get her talking about something ridiculous one of the Birds did recently. Or maybe that counted as work talk, he could never tell.

“I thought your classes were going well,” Bruce said, surprising everyone at the table. Stephanie made a contorted face and huffed out a breath.

“I never said they weren’t.”

But that was where she stopped and a beat of awkward silence hung in the air just long enough for Damian to let out an amused snort. Dick reached over under the table and pinched his leg only to receive a much less discrete elbow to the ribs in return.

If everyone could not make this so difficult for once, Dick would be very grateful.

“Anyway,” Tim said, holding his fork above his plate and looking somewhere between amused and uncomfortable, “did Jason go back to his place already? Is he um...not coming?”

He looked a little nervous asking, like he wasn’t entirely sure he should be bringing it up and stuffed another fork full of food in his mouth to cover it.

Trust Tim to ask immediately.

Dick hesitated on an answer, hoping Bruce would field it and then immediately wondering why he ever would have hoped that when the silence hung in the air. Tim’s eyes darted around the table and Dick steadfastly ignored Damian’s pointed look from right next to him.

“Looking like my other theory was correct then,” Tim mumbled as he looked back down at his plate.

Stephanie leaned over the table, elbows resting on the tablecloth and chin propped in her hands. “Which was?”

“That this dinner is _because_ of Jason.” He glanced up and met Dicks eyes for a split second before everyone’s attention was dragged to the entrance of the room at the sound of the wheels on the hardwood. Babs came in sight a moment later with one eyebrow raised.

“You mean we’re not all here just to have some bonding time? I’m hurt.”

“Funny, Babs,” Dick huffed as she took her place at the table. Alfred stood but she waved him off.

“I can take care of myself Alfred, I’m the one that’s late.”

Damian cleared his throat and Dick held his breath for whatever was about to come out of his mouth.

“I would also like an explanation for Todd’s absence, considering he _is_ still here.”

“He is?” Tim and Stephanie asked at the same time.

“Damian-” Dick started, hoping to regain control of the conversation.

“He took his dinner to his room earlier.” While Damian was addressing the rest of the table he gave Dick and then Bruce matching, challenging looks as if he dared them to lie.

Barbara, who had barely filled her plate, put her fork down and gave Bruce a look of her own. “Please tell me you did not exclude him from whatever this is.”

“He didn’t-“ Dick jumped in, feeling his blood pressure rising already.

“Jason chose not to attend this evening for his own reasons,” Bruce answered her, sounding only mildly frustrated.

And then from Damian’s other side, mumbled under her breath, “oh, but we all had to be here though.”

Dick clenched his hand around his fork and tried not to raise his voice when he said, “guys, please, can we not?”

Everyone was always so ready to argue. Dick could absolutely see why Jason didn’t want to be here for this, his pulse was climbing as it was.

But while everyone else was stiff backed and tense in the sudden unknown of the conversation Cass still sat loose limbed with one foot propped up on her seat, knee bent up under her chin. “Maybe, get to point?” She said, sounding bored.

Tim choked on a laugh and then coughed to cover it up, smacking his chest a few times for good measure. Bruce sighed heavily and Dick could see him about to pinch the bridge of his nose and the moment he stopped himself, settling his hands flat on the table.

“This was...” Bruce started and then stopped, jaw clenching and eyes pinched and Dick was automatically worried for what he would say, that it wouldn’t come out right and he’d be left trying to back pedal on Bruce’s behalf.

“We all know Jason had a scare with an infection.”

Tim blinked. “Seems like kind of an understatement, but ok,” he mumbled with a single raised eyebrow. Dick grit his teeth, resisting the urge to kick him under the table. They were too far apart anyway and with his luck he’d end up hitting Alfred instead.

Barbara leaned forward then, annoyed and giving everyone a sharp look. “Can everyone shut up and let them explain, please? What’s going on with Jason?”

“Jason explained to me,” Bruce started again, sitting tall and tense in his chair, “a few nights ago, that he believes...since he stopped using lethal force...” He licked his lips and Dick sat there calmly, watching his father struggle for the right words and quietly leaned forward and cleared his throat.

“He told us the Lazarus Pit is bothering him again, getting worse the longer he goes without a kill to his name.”

There was dead silence for a moment and then, “ _Bothering_ him? What does _bothering_ mean?” Tim asked, alarmed but trying not to show it, Dick could tell.

“Uh, yeah,” Stephanie chimed in, equally disturbed.

Babs closed her eyes and sighed and Dick heard her say, very quietly, “ _that idiot._ ”

“It means there have been times recently when Jason has felt he’s lacked...control of himself, and he recognizes the Lazarus Pit as the cause.”

“How? Exactly?” Stephanie asked, sounding either skeptical or nervous, Dick couldn’t quite tell.

“Because he’s feeling like he used to. Before,” Tim was the one who said it, voice monotone and face void of expression, drawing the only logical conclusion while Dick felt panic welling in his stomach. The blank face was never a good sign.

“Not exactly,” Bruce said back, voice strained, “he’s not having...”

“Delusions?” Babs provided softly, leaning back fully in her chair.

Bruce took a slow breath. “No...he’s not having delusions that I’m aware of.”

Tim blinked at that, blank expression disappearing in favor of incredulity. “That you’re aware of?”

“Just an uncontrollable urge for violence, then,” Stephanie muttered, unimpressed.

“That is how you got that bruise.” Dick shouldn’t have been surprised by the sudden outburst, Damian had been uncharacteristically quiet so far. “I knew it did not happen on patrol.” He looked alert, staring intently at the bruise on Bruce’s chin.

“Wait, he hit you?” And the incredulity in Tim’s voice shifted quickly back into alarm.

“It wasn’t serious-“

“Then what happened?”

Dick was worried about this. Because he didn’t actually know. He got the gist of it but he wasn’t sure what Bruce was going to say or if he should say much at all, or if it would just make things worse.

He watched as Bruce stared at his half empty plate and he thought, _no one’s going to finish their food now._ Which was just sad, because Alfred’s salmon was amazing.

“That is between Jason and I. Regardless, I’m fine, but it is an issue, yes.” Bruce looked up, eyes scanning the table, making brief contact with everyone there. “Jason is...his temper is unstable right now, and we thought it best to speak to everyone about it, as I’ve...I’ve invited him to stay in the manor until the issue can be resolved.”

Tim didn’t say anything. No one did for a moment, but Dick was only staring at Tim, because he had no idea how he was going to react. He was historically self sacrificing and helpful but he had also been hurt and was one of Jason’s most favored punching bags when he was still Pit mad.

Dick watched him take a very deep breath and then swallow, settling into something calm. He only saw Red Robin suddenly, sitting at the table.

“Jason didn’t join us tonight because he was afraid of how you would all react,” Dick felt compelled to say, trying not to be too obvious while watching Tim. “He’s scared. He’s afraid no one will want him here because he thinks he’s dangerous and he doesn’t want to make anyone uncomfortable. He hasn’t even agreed to stay yet.”

He made a split second of eye contact with Tim before his brother’s gaze flicked away. But he could see his shoulders lower, just a fraction. Dick thought suddenly, that he should have talked to Tim about this ahead of time. He was so concerned about not excluding anyone that he hadn’t considered how much more alarming this might be for him than some of the others.

Jason had also nearly killed Damian of course, but in an odd and somewhat disturbing turn of events Dick didn’t think he took it personally even back then. That was the life of an assassin. Of course, the reasons behind trying to get rid of Damian also weren’t quite as personal to begin with.

Tim had been attacked specifically for the position he held both as Robin and as Bruce’s son. They’d both grown past what happened, after it was established that Jason hadn’t been himself back then. But it definitely wasn’t something Dick thought he’d just forgotten. Jason’s words from the day before hit him suddenly, about how Tim already didn’t come around the manor often, and how Jason being there would only make it worse.

He didn’t think it would be true, but he still worried. Dick had faith that Tim could see past his old hurt, he certainly had before. But he also felt bad about expecting him to, for the same reason.

But he and Jason seemed to get along so well these days; Dick would hate to see this drive a wedge between them and ruin the ground they’d gained together.

Babs interrupted his train of thought as she leaned forward in her chair. “So what does that mean for all of us? Are you telling us we should avoid being around him?”

“No,” both Bruce and Dick said at the same time.

They glanced at each other and Bruce cleared his throat and continued, “as far as I can tell he’s only in danger of losing control when he’s particularly upset or worked up over something. He’s off patrol for now, while we figure out a solution. Jason is not dangerous to anyone as long as he is not purposely provoked,” he glanced at Damian here, “or pushed too far emotionally.” Then his eyes darted to Dick who couldn’t help being offended. _He_ wasn’t the one who got in a physical fight with Jason in the library.

Stephanie snorted and Babs gave her a flat look.

“We’ve talked about what he should do if he is feeling like he’s close to losing control.”

“And what is that, exactly?” Tim asked, voice level. It was the Wayne Heir voice and Dick tried not to wince.

“We’ve gone over grounding techniques, and ways to stay calm. But I trust that none of you would push him that far, and would respect it if he told you to drop something.”

Tim looked skeptical, if anything, but then Alfred spoke up for the first time.

“If I may,” everyone immediately turned to him. It was unusual for Alfred to participate in something like this. It was normal for him to listen in but he rarely contributed his thoughts. “I know this may make some of you quite nervous, deservedly so. But I believe Master Jason is more frightened than anyone at the possibility of hurting one of you.”

Dick saw Tim’s eyebrows scrunch up in sympathy, just the slighted bit, before they smoothed back out and he really hoped it was a good sign. He didn’t want to be stuck between his brothers again. _Never again_.

Of course, then Damian snapped, “I am not afraid. And anyone who would be is a coward.” He was obviously staring at Tim and Dick’s mind began to race through ways to diffuse the situation when Stephanie snorted in disbelief.

And then Cass said, from where she had blended into the wall behind her, “you are.”

Damian made an offended noise, choked off when they all realized; Cass wasn’t even looking at Damian. She was looking at Bruce.

He looked taken off guard for all of a second, but he held eye contact with Cass for a moment and then let out a soft breath.

“About some things, yes.”

“What things?” Cass asked, sitting up a little straighter in her chair.

Bruce looked around the table at them all, face impassive. It was so frustrating sometimes when you could see he was searching you for something without giving anything of himself. Dick knew, at least 80% of the time, the man wasn’t doing it on purpose but that didn’t stop it from being infuriating.

“I don’t want this....” he began. Dick could practically see the gears turning in his head, filtering and throwing away the words he deemed wrong before he finally continued, very carefully, “this is not a simple situation. Jason needs help. But he is not the only important member of this family. I’m afraid that by offering this to him, before speaking to any of you, I may have made some of you feel less welcome here, and that was not my intention.”

“ _Tt_ , we all know that you are speaking about Drake. You might as well say it.”

Tim stiffened across the table and Stephanie made a choked noise and shoved Damian in the shoulder. Dick wanted to strangle his littlest brother more than he had in _months_.

There was a tick in Bruce’s jaw when he said, “Damian, that is not helpful.” His voice was clipped and Dick could practically hear his teeth grinding together.

“Seriously Dames.” He gave him a hard stare but didn’t want to scold him in front of everyone. It would just make him defensive and he’d act out more.

“If that was all for my sake, it’s not necessary. I don’t live here, remember?” Dick didn’t think he meant it to be a dig at Bruce, or possibly himself, but he still had to hold back a wince. “You should be asking Cass.”

He turned toward her then. “What do you think about it?” Then he gave both Bruce and Dick a pointed look. Which was fair, Cass was so easy going about most things it was usually just assumed that she would be fine with whatever happened. But even if she was that didn’t mean they shouldn’t ask her.

Cass blinked, as if surprised when all attention swung to her. She shrugged. “Cannot hurt me. Not worried.”

Babs’s mouth twitched into a smile and Dick heard Stephanie let out an amused hum.

“If he needs help, this is good place.” She nodded at the end, decisively, and Bruce looked briefly so soft that Dick Questioned every time Bruce said he didn’t have a favorite kid before shaking the thought entirely. _Not helpful._

“Let’s not forget that he hasn’t even agreed to stay yet,” Babs chimed in, looking directly at Bruce. “It’s just as likely that he’ll say no.”

Dick grit his teeth, wishing she would have kept that to herself but also glad he didn’t have to be the one to say it. He could tell Bruce was trying to leave the decision in Jason’s hands but his tendency was to push things the direction he wanted them to go. And everyone knew what Bruce wanted out of this. It would be impossible not to.

“...Yes,” Bruce admitted, though Dick couldn’t tell if it was a strain or not. “We don’t know what he will decide, but either way, we wanted everyone to be informed, as a safety precaution, and...just to keep everyone in the loop.”

There was murmured assent, eye contact across the table and quirked eyebrows here and there at The _“keep everyone in the loop,”_ comment Dick was sure. Or maybe it was the use of the word _we_.

There was the sound of chair legs scraping against the floor as someone scooted closer to the table and then, “what’s the plan then? ...you must have one.”

Dick was mildly surprised it was Stephanie who asked. Of course as the thought occurred to him he could hear Jay’s voice in his head, “ _can kinda see why she was so ready to throw down with you.”_

Bruce at least seemed to be expecting the question. “I’m running some diagnostic tests, blood samples,” he said, “and I’ve contacted Zatanna for a consult when she’s next available to see if she can sense a change, or figure out the source of the problem. She should be available sometime next week. Once I get the results of both of those we’ll go from there.”

Dick knew all of this already and nodded along at the explanation. Babs let out a sigh and leaned back in her chair, looking weary. He wondered if she felt at all like he did. Like she’d let Jason down in some way by not realizing the problem. Or if she felt resigned to Jason hiding things and retreating into himself, like they were all prone to do when hurting the most.

Tim spoke up again, pulling Dick’s attention away, “what’s the plan in case you can’t find a solution?”

“We will,” Dick said with confidence he didn’t necessarily feel, forgetting for a moment that his current audience didn’t include Jason, and that Tim of all people wouldn’t appreciate empty assurances.

He received an exasperated and entirely unimpressed look. Tim’s plate lay nearly untouched, fork sitting next to it as he pushed it away from himself and leaned an elbow on the table in its place.

“Ok, but what if you _don’t?_ ”

“There are plenty of other avenues to turn to for answers. We’ll find something,” Bruce answered this time, like he was trying to be reassuring.

Tim finally began to look a little frustrated. “That’s completely not what I’m asking. You probably will find a solution, but you said Jason says it’s been getting worse? So what happens if it continues that way before you find answers? What are you going to do if he does start having delusions again? What if he has a nightmare and he wakes up disoriented and he goes after Damian?”

He gestured across the table, almost absently and Dick stiffened right along with Damian, knowing the reaction wouldn’t be good.

“Do not include me in your hypothetical scenarios,” Damian snapped, “I am not afraid-”

Tim cut him off, irritated, “what if it’s Alfred then?”

Alfred, still sitting in the chair next to Tim and having been observing the conversation quietly for a time now, looked pained. “Master Tim.” His voice sounded weak, like the very idea hurt and really, Dick thought, it was a bit of a low blow to bring Alfred into it, but it also wasn’t entirely unfair.

“He’s never gone after Alfred,” Bruce added on, sounding even more strained, “even when things were at their worst.”

Dick wanted to put his face in his hands because yes, Bruce was right, and he understood the strain there, but he also knew Tim was not going to react well.

“ _Oh my god,”_ he whispered to his plate, before looking up and addressing them all again, “what if it’s the dog then?”

Dick was already reaching for him when he moved but Damian was too quick. He shot up form his chair, spine tense like a snake ready to strike. “If you are threatening-” he spat before Dick had a chance to cut him off.

“Whoa!” He gripped Damian’s elbow, catching Stephanie doing the same in his peripheral vision.

Tim looked flabbergasted, voice rising to match Damian’s, “ _are you insane?_ I’m not _threatening_ anyone-“

Barbara let a hand fall to the table, utterly aggravated. “Can we not make this about the pair of you and your issues, for once?

“ _I’m_ not making it about anything-“ Tim pressed a hand to his chest, obviously offended and Dick opened his mouth to say something to diffuse the situation but once again Damian beat him to the punch.

“Of course not, you are just a coward-”

“Damian _shut up,_ ” Stephanie nearly shouted. Together they both pulled hard enough to drag him back into his seat but it was too late to prevent the thunderous expression on Tim’s face.

Bruce raised his voice in turn, cutting off whatever reply was on the tip of Tim’s tongue. “Can everyone be quiet please?” He looked around at them all through a frigid silence. Dick chanced a glance at Alfred and found him with his eyes closed, as if he were attempting to meditate and Dick almost gave an hysterical little laugh.

This was not going like he had hoped.

Cass had curled over her knees, both now tucked to her chest, looking as unhappy as a wet cat while she stared at the center of the table. Tim’s face was red and blotchy with anger. Dick saw her place a discreet hand on his arm and squeeze and he took a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

Damian was still stiff as a board next to him, pulled taut enough to snap and Dick squeezed the elbow his hand was still wrapped around. He Leaned to the side, tugging Damian closer and whispered in his ear, “ _you are out of line. This isn’t about you or Titus. Tim is just trying to make a point.”_

Damian leaned away from him, yanking hard against Dick’s grip but he didn’t let go. Instead Damian managed to knock his hand into the edge of the table, rattling his dishes loud enough to grab everyone’s attention. Dick did wince then, at the sharp throb in the back of his hand if not the death glare he was receiving from more than one person at the table.

Damian refused to look up, color climbing his neck and turning his ears the slightest pink that Dick wasn’t sure was caused by anger, embarrassment, or both. This wasn’t good. Maybe private conversations would have been better.

“Tim,” Bruce finally said, in a quiet, controlled voice, hands now completely off the table, probably squeezing themselves to death below the edge and out of sight, “what do you suggest?”

Tim still looked furious, but he took a deep breath and subsided just a little when quiet fell and everyone finally appeared to be listening to him. He swallowed. “That there be measures in place in case things don’t go the way you’re hoping.” He spoke slowly, and he maintained eye contact with Bruce through the whole sentence before a flash of regret crossed his face and he added, “you’re not usually this idealistic. There is a worst case scenario, and you know what it is.”

Bruce looked uncomfortable, eyes diverting to the dishes still in the center of the table and Dick’s stomach tied itself in a tight knot at Tim’s words, suddenly nauseas.

He couldn’t help but also notice Barbara’s face growing harder by the second before she snapped, “if you’re suggesting we lock him up-“

Tim dropped a hand to the table, face sharp and angry once again. “That is not what I’m suggesting at all. If everyone could stop putting words in my mouth for one god damn second, that would be great.”

The fact that Alfred didn’t even scold him for swearing was not a good sign. Yeah, this was not going _at all_ as well as Dick had hoped.

“Ok,” he jumped in before anyone could snap something back, “Tim is right.” It pained him to admit it but he was glad he did when Tim looked at him like he was the only sane person in the room.

 _“Thank you.”_ He threw a hand out, palm flat as he gestured toward him and looked at Bruce and Barbara expectantly. It had been a long time since he’d gotten that look.

Dick took a breath and slid his hand up from Damian’s elbow to his wrist and gently swiped his thumb back and forth over the back of his arm, hoping to calm the rigid line of his spine and suppress whatever outburst was probably welling in his chest. “If for no other reason than I think _Jason_ might feel better if there was a plan in place, Tim is right.”

Dick wasn’t clear on the specifics but Jason and Damian had obviously made a connection over Titus and somehow the kid was already feeling defensive of him. But Tim _was_ right.

Tim gestured to Dick again, a flash of gratitude in his eyes. “Yes, that too. If everything you guys said is true, don’t you think Jason would want there to be some sort of failsafe?”

The clincher, of course, was Alfred. “I’m afraid I must agree,” he said, very quietly, from where he was nearly out of sight, leaned back in his chair behind Tim who was slumped over the table.

He glanced back at the butler then, eyes concerned, and sat up so everyone could see him with his elbow propped in one hand while the other covered the lower half of his face. He looked... _sad_ was the only word Dick could think to put to his expression and Tim looked almost scared.

“Alfred, I didn’t-“

“You’re quite alright, Master Tim.” He lowered the hand over his mouth and reached over, patting him on the arm. “You are correct, it should be addressed. I’m sure it would put Master Jason’s mind at ease, at least a small amount.”

Dick looked to Bruce and found him staring into his water glass before he took a sip and set it to the side. “Alright,” he said, more quiet than usual, “I see what you mean. I will...consider some options.”

“Ok,” Tim said softly, turning back to the table; he looked nervous now. “I don’t mean...I know this isn’t Jason’s fault and it _sucks_. Like...more than I can probably imagine, for him. I’m not trying to say we should _punish_ him if things get worse -“

“I know, Tim.” He brushed a hand over the tablecloth and left it there. “I know you-“ he cut himself off for a moment, glancing around the table. “It’s a complicated situation,” he finally repeated, and Dick hoped the two of them would talk later, in private. That Bruce would tell him whatever it was he was reluctant to say in front of everyone else, like he’d been better about doing lately. But he still worried it wouldn’t happen.

“You’re not wrong,” he continued, “everyone’s safety is just as important as Jason’s comfort.” Bruce gave the slightest grimace, as if unhappy with his word choice.

There was an uneasy silence but no one argued, glancing around at each other like none of them knew what to say now. Cass went immediately back to eating, like she could sense the conversation was over. Dick watched Tim though, and he was fairly certain he already had an idea in mind, but was smart enough not to bring it up here, with everyone.

Damian tugged against Dick’s hold on his wrist, gently this time, and he finally let go, trusting him to be calm and not say something ridiculous again. He still kept a careful eye on him but he only folded his hands in his lap, staring down at them with a lack of expression.

“So,” Stephanie said after the silence dragged on for an uncomfortably long time, “how _is_ Little Red Riding Hood? Can’t be a fun time...” She tapped her fork on her plate and leaned forward so she could see around Damian. The four of them - Cass, Stephanie, Tim, and Babs - all of whom hadn’t been in the manor the last few days, stared at both Dick and Bruce.

“He’s-“ Dick started upbeat, paused, and then felt his shoulders slump a little, “he’s really stressed out.”

Which was probably the understatement of the year, but they all looked grim enough in return that he thought they at least understood.

He made brief eye contact with Barbara, who looked particularly sad before the expression disappeared. He remembered when they were younger, when Dick was off with the Titans but Barbara was still in Gotham. Once he had called her and ranted on the phone for a while, about Jason, about feeling replaced, and she had said, _“you’re right Dick, Bruce is an ass, and he should have done this differently. I didn’t like it at first either but...Jason’s just a kid and he’s had it rough. This is a good thing for him. He deserves a chance.”_

Dick hadn’t really been able to argue. Things changed a lot after that...

There was so much more that Dick wanted to say. But he wasn’t sure if he should or how everyone would react. He’d told Jason that they would want to help, and he was sure that they did, but he was also sure they wouldn’t really know how.

“Todd has become quite attached to Titus,” Damian said, through the strained silence. “Perhaps we could get another dog.”

Stephanie laughed, “Ho ho, we’ll turn you into a master manipulator yet.”

Bruce only frowned, leaning heavily over his plate. “We’ve talked about pets Damian.”

He scowled in return, turning his attention back to his pasta and beginning to eat again. “It would not be for _me_.”

“Sure it wouldn’t.” Dick smirked, ruffling the kid’s hair just for him to duck out of the way and nearly bump shoulders with Stephanie, who gently shoved him back to center.

“There are extensive studies that prove animal companionship has a positive impact on the mental state of humans.”

Dick was proud of Damian, for a thousand reasons, but seeing him actually _seeing_ Jason, as more than just another vigilante, but as someone who he could relate to - even if it was only as a fellow animal lover - it gave him hope. He’d known for a long time how compassionate Damian could be but seeing it turned toward someone he’d once considered an enemy? Maybe there was hope for his relationship with Tim...He’d try not to put too much stock in the idea, but it still left him feeling a little lighter, after a hard conversation.

“We can talk about it later,” Bruce said, following everyone’s lead and beginning to eat again.

And then there was Bruce, who Dick felt sort of proud of too, in a weird way. He was stuck somewhere in a limbo of proud that he was trying, frustrated that it had taken this long, wary that it wouldn’t last, and so desperately happy that the man he considered a father was beginning to resemble the man he remembered as a kid. Was finally pushing himself to be more. To be better. To be _happy_.

Of course Dick wasn’t blind to his ups and downs. When he looked at how nervous Jason was about even staying at the manor he sometimes just wanted to strangle Bruce.

There were details he knew he wasn’t privy to. He knew about the mission to Ethiopia but he didn’t know what happened there. Just that it resulted in a complete severing of their relationship. That Jason was still furious, and more than likely hurt over it. Dick didn’t know what happened.

But he also wasn’t stupid. In the thick of Bruce’s grief after Damian’s death, he takes Jason back to the country he died in? Maybe the two things were unrelated...but again, Dick wasn’t stupid.

He knew Bruce had made missteps. Been oblivious at the best of times and hurtful and downright cruel at the worst. He knew there was likely a lot to be forgiven, but he couldn’t help but hope that they would work things out.

Their ill fated phone phone call alone told Dick that Jason wanted Bruce in his life. Maybe he wasn’t ready to forgive yet, maybe he was still scared, and it would take a long time before he could let the hurt between them go. Dick understood, because as much as he wanted to do the same, sometimes his heart held onto those things too.

But it was so obvious how much they loved each other. It was painful to see them tiptoeing around like they’d just met. Like Jason was still the skittish kid from the alley and Bruce was an unknown.

Maybe it was selfish.

He wouldn’t blame Jason it if was too much, if everything piling up was enough weight that this on top of it all was just more than he could take. But he really hoped, at least some day, that the two of them could have what they used to again.

It was just - the thought of his family finally drawing together like he knew they could - but without Jason, without any one of them - it made him _ache_.

They deserved this, they deserved to have a family that cared and helped each other when they needed it and Dick wanted that for Jason and all of his siblings just as much as he wanted it for himself. Even more so.

And lately, Bruce was a big part of that.

If he thought he wasn’t sincere, or that he wasn’t sorry for his past wrongs, or even if he was but he wasn’t trying so hard to make up for them - Dick didn’t think the pull for his family would be so strong.

But now he had this picture, this image of what things could be and he couldn’t let it go.

Jason deserved this. And Dick was doing his best not to push him in any given direction because he knew just because this was good for him didn’t mean it was good for Jason. But he still hoped.

He would always hope.

*

It was early, but Jason still got himself ready for bed, brain a little more calm after spending the evening reading an old favorite. He’d gone back and forth between _The Secret Garden_ and the E.E. Cummings collection, perusing poetry, trying to find something that stuck.

There was one he liked, he’d gone over it a few times, reciting it quietly under his breath while he tried not to think about the conversation happening in the dining room. He said the first few lines to himself again as he changed into sweats.

“In time of daffodils, who know the goal of living is to grow, forgetting why, remember how, in time of lilacs who proclaim...who proclaim - _damn_.”

He shook his head, starting over again, finding the rhythm of the words as he went into the bathroom to brush his teeth.

They were all done with dinner now, it was nearly 10pm and he’d heard at least one car leave maybe ten minutes earlier. Jason had sort of been waiting for something. A reaction from the others, phone calls maybe some texts, even one or two of them maybe stopping by his room. So far there wasn’t anything and he didn’t know how to feel about that.

He was worried, maybe overly so, that Tim would be upset.

Cass was a complete blank in his head and so was Stephanie. There was no context or history to work from, he had no idea what they would think. How they’d both feel.

Damian, Jason was concerned, would be bothered but pretend he wasn’t because he couldn’t admit that anything made him uncomfortable, or worse, _scared_. Jason could understand but, he was a little kid.

Barbie might be mad at him, a little, for being dumb and not just telling somebody. But she probably already was about the infection so...not much change there.

Just as the thought occurred to him, as he spit in the sink and put a cupped hand of water to his mouth to rinse with, someone knocked on his door.

He finished the motion, spit, wiped his face dry with a hand towel and gave himself two seconds to stand there leaning on the counter before he pushed off and walked to the door.

It was Bruce, again.

Jason wasn’t really used to the night time check ins and Bruce didn’t seem to be either by his awkward posture.

“Jason,” he said.

“Bruce,” Jason said back.

He cleared his throat, and Jason wondered idly, how long it would be like this if he stayed. The awkward hesitance that Jason wasn’t entirely sure how to interpret most of the time. Bruce always knew what to do in a crisis, but when you were just two people standing there, somehow it was harder.

“I wanted to let you know, dinner is over, everyone’s gone home and they’re all informed.”

Jason nodded, ignoring the way his stomach swooped at the news. He absently heard his phone buzz with a text from the bed and glanced back at it, as did Bruce, and swallowed, hands suddenly clammy. There was a heavy pause before he continued.

“I’m about to get ready for patrol. Dick will be joining us tonight, since he has to head home in the morning.”

“Right,” Jason said, distracted by another buzz from his phone, trying not to pay attention to it and completely failing. Bruce had that piercing stare he got and Jason didn’t like it. ‘Cause there was a lot going through his head right then and he didn’t need Bruce seeing it all. He needed a minute if anyone would give it to him.

“Call me if you need anything.”

“I’ll be fine,” Jason insisted. Bruce nodded, but there was another buzz from his phone and this time he flinched, just the tiniest bit.

And then there was a hand on his shoulder, squeezing softly. “No one is upset,” he said, voice quiet. There was a full pause, like he wanted to say more but in the end he just squeezed his arm one more time and said, “goodnight Jason. Sleep well.”

He let go, stepped out of the room and headed down the hall toward the cave.

“Goodnight,” Jason finally managed, stepping out Of the room to watch him disappear down the stairs.

He thought, for a split second, that he should be out there with them. It rubbed him all wrong to be hanging back, expecting other people to pick up his slack. He worried about the alley, the working girls and the kids on the street he hadn’t been able to check on in too long. The others would take care of it. They wouldn’t let his territory go by the wayside just because he wasn’t out there but he knew the kids wouldn’t trust anybody else, at least at first.

And the working girls alike would be wary and tight lipped, they knew they could trust the other bats but they didn’t know them like they knew Red Hood.

Jason heaved a sigh and ran a hand through his hair, stepping back into the room and shutting the door behind him as he finally looked back at his phone sitting on the bed.

It buzzed one more time while he was looking. The screen lit up and a new notification glowed at him. He shuffled the last few steps across the carpet and finally picked it up.

He had six text messages, the first was from Dick.

_Dick:_   
_So that’s over with! I woulda come found you after dinner but I kind of get the feeling you’re not up for a lot of company right now. Let me know if I’m wrong?_

He sat down on the bed as he backed out of the text, scrolling to the next one down.

_Barbara:_   
_So I’ve officially been brought into the loop. Safe to say I have a lot of feelings about this. I wish you had told me - but I understand why you didn’t. Call me if you feel up to it. I’m always around._

Jason swallowed and swiped a clammy hand over his sweat pants. There was one from Tim too, which he opened reluctantly.

_Tim:_   
_So that explains some things._

_I hope everyone’s not blowing up your phone. Bruce told everybody to give you ‘space’ so I kind of feel like they probably are (blowing up your phone). I’ll be back at the manor in a couple days and I’m hoping we can talk then? It’s nothing bad, so don’t worry. We could even play Animal Crossing if you wanted? It’s relaxing._

Jason snorted, blinking back the sting in his eyes and wiping his nose with his wrist. _“It’s nothing bad,”_ didn’t really help his anxiety but it was a lot better than it could have been and he was grateful for that.

There was one from Cass, that he opened with equal nerves, finally pushing himself back on the mattress until he was resting against the headboard and pillows. There were just...emoji’s. Which Jason didn’t understand.

Cass:  
🤕🧠🗣👂🤼🤸🩰💔❤⏰

He really...he had no idea what she was trying to say but there were hearts in it? So that seemed...good? He scratched at the back of his neck, confused but sort of relieved too.

The next one to come in was from Damian and Jason opened it quickly, wondering if it was gonna be a mini lecture or a snide comment or what.

_Damian:_   
_The forecast still predicts rain for tomorrow. It can’t be helped. Will eleven be feasible for Titus’s walk?_

Jason sat there for a long while staring at it, rubbing a hand down his face and typing out a quick, _“that should work,”_ back.

Stephanie’s was last.

_Stephanie:_   
_So I know we’re not full fledged best buds yet, but I’m sure everybody’s got a billion opinions to share with you right now and I just wanted to contribute this:_

Jason choked on his own spit, sputtering for a half second before he was coughing up a lung and laughing so hard he could barely breathe.

 _“What the fudge?”_ He wheezed to himself, rolling to the side and coughing a few more times, tears springing to his eyes for an entirely new reason. He couldn’t stop laughing, which only made him laugh _harder_ because it wasn’t even that funny, it was just - the _context_.

He was breathless and a little light headed by the time his laughter finally subsided, curled on his side with one arm wrapped around his stomach, the other held out in front of him, phone still clutched in his hand. He lay there for a while just staring at the blank screen until he finally unlocked it, scrolling slowly though the list of messages.

His chest felt tight, and he swallowed against a swell of emotion, took a long inhale and scrubbed a hand over his face.

So maybe Dick was right about a few things, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: I honestly can’t think of anything this chapter beyond allusions to back when Jason was still Pit Mad and pretty violent toward his family...brief references to both Jason and Damian’s deaths.
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed this...writing scenes with that many characters in them is always a bit @_@ but I did my best!! Tim and Damian are both precious and I want them to get along but it is _not easy_ for them....eventually.... _eventually._
> 
> Also I’m sorry, _I’m not funny_ but I wanted to give Jason something to laugh about and that image kills me and Stephanie was the perfect girl for the job. 
> 
> Anyway I will see you all next time!!! A chapter every two weeks might be the norm for a while...I’ve been utterly swamped at work and getting overtime hours and I’m _very tired_ in the evenings.
> 
> Chapter title from It’s Only Life but The Shins


	20. Sometimes when sleep becomes your enemy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason’s head was rarely a quiet place and when one anxiety pulled back there were plenty of others ready and waiting to take its place. 
> 
> Jason dreams, and has a talk with Dick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m _SO LATE_. But I’m HERE. 
> 
> Warnings in end notes!! There are a couple this time.

Jason went to bed feeling ok. He spent probably thirty minutes writing and deleting replies to everyone’s texts until he finally just said screw it and pressed send.

He felt relieved, like a weight was gone from his chest and he could breathe again. Nothing had fallen apart. Things were maybe a little weird, but they already had been so that didn’t seem so terrible.

A little anticlimactic really.

And _Lord_ Jason was tired. He’d been keyed up all evening and the release of tension in his whole body when there was no crashing conflict or unfolding drama made him just, exhausted. For once he thought he might get a good nights rest with everything out in the open.

And he did fall asleep quickly. He sent his last message, to Cass, just a simple thumbs up emoji, plugged his phone in, got up to turn off the lights and slipped into bed.

He was out in minutes.

But Jason’s head was rarely a quiet place and when one anxiety pulled back there were plenty of others ready and waiting to take its place.

*

Jason was in the cave. He was in uniform, fully suited up, and something about that felt strange but he couldn’t put his finger on why.

“Hood.”

Jason snapped his head up to see Bruce- no, Batman, standing by the Batmobile, arms crossed over his chest.

“What’s up? Why’d you call me in here?” Because that’s...that’s right, that was why he was there, Batman had asked him to join him.

“There’s something I’d like your help with.”

Jason spread his arms wide. “Alright, you’ve got me, what are we doing?”

Batman only jerked his head to the side, motioning for Jason to follow him. They traversed the driving range, normally the furthest part of the cave in use, and continued down into an unfinished section. Jason didn’t really remember it being there but then he also didn’t remember it _not_ being there.

The floor wasn’t ground down and smoothed out by machinery here, still choppy, jagged stone and packed down dirt,

“What’s back here?” Jason asked, his automated voice echoing oddly off the walls.

“You’ll see,” was all Batman would say, continuing on.

There was a small opening ahead of them, about two shoulder widths wide for Jason, the beginning of what he knew were a labyrinth of underground tunnels that he was always cautioned away from as a kid.

“I thought this place was like, forbidden or something?” He asked as he watched Batman duck his head briefly to enter the first tunnel.

Batman hummed his acknowledgement but said nothing else, continuing on the path of a dark, winding cavern like a rocky hallway. The stone was damp and Jason was careful with his footing as he followed.

“Seriously, what’s going on, B?” The light from the main cave was fading quickly the further down they went, leaving Jason with nothing but a snatch of light reflecting off of Batman’s cape when he moved just right.

“You’ll see.”

He felt a spike of irritation, as always. “Or you could tell me now.”

This time though, Batman didn’t reply, just continued in silence. Except that Jason couldn’t see him and when he paid attention the soft pads of his footsteps were silent too.

“Batman?”

It was getting oddly warm, he thought, as he carefully laid a hand on the rock wall at his right, shuffling his feet over rough stone that scraped oddly against the soles of his boots.

_“Batman?”_ He repeated, louder, feeling a spike of anxiety shoot through him.

A light blinked on, just ahead of him, illuminating his mentor’s face and casting it in deep shadows. Jason shivered.

“Just stay close,” he mumbled, turning back away and keeping the light in front of him. Jason could still barely see, but it was better than it had been.

But God it was getting warm. He reached up and tugged at the neck of his shirt and body armor feeling sweat bead down his temples inside the helmet. His own breath hot against his face.

He took a step and it felt different, odd, no longer slippery and jagged. The ground gave a little beneath his boot and when he looked down there was sand littering the ground.

“What the hell is this?” He asked, lifting his foot up and squinting through the dark, trying to see further than the light allowed.

“Hood, just come on, we don’t have all day.”

Jason hesitated, his skin was crawling and he didn’t know why. He wanted to ask why it was so hot but somehow the thought vanished as quickly as it came. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. The tunnel was narrowing and now he could touch a hand to each wall as they went.

He dragged his fingers across the stone slowly. He wanted to turn back. But he looked behind and it was pitch dark, no exit in sight.

He could feel heat from the sand seeping through the soles of his boots, leaving the bottoms of his feet uncomfortably hot.

“I think we should stop,” Jason finally said, slowing his stride as the halls narrowed further, boxing him in at the shoulders. He shifted from foot to foot, trying to alleviate the heat. Batman was further away now, the light fading that much more. He didn’t know how he _fit_.

“Batman!” He shouted, feeling his heartbeat in his throat. The man stopped ahead of him but didn’t turn back around. “I’m not doing this,” he all but spat.

Batman finally turned around, the little light held at chest level like the pinprick of a star in the distance. It was eons, _miles_ down the tunnel.

Why was he so far away?

“I need you for this Jason,” his voice echoed off the walls, enough that it sounded like ten different people speaking at once. The words were _loud_ despite how far away he was and Jason ducked his head. God he felt so hot he could barely breathe in the helmet.

In an almost frantic motion he reached up to yank it off.

The reinforced material, plastic and fiberglass, was hot to the touch and cracked under his fingers. The faceplate shattered all at once, making him shout. He jerked his head back, flinging it off and stumbling into the wall as shards of it broke off, leaving tiny cuts in his face and burns on his fingertips, all the way through his gloves. He shook his head, flinging shrapnel out of his hair and brushing shaking hands over his eyes.

Something touched his shoulder.

Jason struck out in panic, meeting empty air. It was completely black around him, no hint of light. He felt himself go breathless with twisting anxiety as a fist gripped the neck of his shirt and hauled him to his feet while he scrambled to regain his balance. He could hear laughing, from somewhere and he turned his head in every direction, trying to figure out where it was coming from.

“Jason,”

He froze. A surge of anger and upset twisted so hard in his gut he almost gagged and he wasn’t even sure why. It was Batman’s voice, low and guttural, and _angry_.

The soles of Jason’s feet throbbed, singed through his boots.

“I can’t,” he bit out, his own voice clipped and hard, hands grasping for the arm holding him upright even while he couldn’t see it.

“You don’t understand-“

“Don’t you _tell me_ -“

_“You’re being selfish!”_

The words echoed oddly in his head. And the cave walls were gone and back and gone again in flashes of moonlight off sand dunes back to inky blackness. Jason felt his entire body go hot and numb all at once. His skin might as well be melting off his bones and he struck out, fist meeting Bruce’s chin, glancing off in the dark as the fist wrapped in his shirt released and he was falling.

And falling.

And _falling_.

He came to with a jerk so hard he let out an involuntary grunt, shooting up from his prone position in the bed, breathing like a freight train.

There was a scream building in his chest, swelling up and out until his lungs felt like they would tear at the seams.

He was hyperventilating.

The realization came from off in the distance, like a voice through wind, but he fumbled for the nightstand, nearly knocking over the lamp trying to turn it on. Shoving away his books, he clamored for the stupid fidget toy and the pineapple chapstick. He smeared it on with his right hand while his left shook around the toy, pressing his thumb hard into the light switch toggle, feeling the hard plastic edge bite into his skin.

He felt like he was going to puke. Like he could rip someone’s head off with his bare hands. The Pit was filling his lungs all over again, water choking him with poison while he tried to take a deep breath.

Shoulders shaking, the smell of artificial pineapple filling his nose, he licked his lips. The scream was still growing in his gut, pushing up through him until it felt like it was pressing against the backs of his teeth.

He tried to recite the poem, blinking against the spots in his vision and the bright light of the lamps. But Jason could only remember the first few lines and he ran through them too fast, over and over, bending forward at his waist until his forehead pressed into his knees.

_“In time of daffodils who know, the goal of living is to grow, forgetting why remember how, in time of lilacs who proclaim, the aim of... the aim - in time of daffodils who know, the goal of living is to grow, forgetting why remember how, in time of lilacs who proclaim, the aim...in time of daffodils who know, the goal of living is to grow-“_

His breath hitched.

He tore the blankets off his lower half, exposing his legs and dropping his feet off the side of the bed, pressing them into the carpet, feeling the threads come up between his bare toes.

There was no sand, no heat, he wasn’t back there. He wasn’t -

It was the cave, just the _cave_. I wasn’t Ethiopia. It wasn’t real - that didn’t happen. None of that happened, it was just a _dream_.

He could tell himself that, sort of. His hands shook with anger, with a hurt so deep it felt pulled up through his spine, like oil, black and erosive.

Nothing even _happened_. It was just - that was just a stupid dream.

_“In-in time of daffodils who know,”_ he choked out, panting heavily.

He dragged both hands through his hair, half expecting to find shards of broken helmet to shake loose.

_“The goal of living is to grow,”_ he whispered to himself, voice strained. _“The goal of living is to grow.”_

Swallowing against a tight throat, Jason concentrated on the smell and taste of the chapstick, the pressure of the fidget toy where it still dug into his palm. He tried to count his breaths, even them out, calm the hitching in his chest and short, staccato spikes of _panic_ and _fury_ that wanted to bring up the Pit over and over again.

He didn’t think about the dream. He didn’t think about the desert. He didn’t think about sand and hot, dry wind on his face as the sun was going down, or how it felt when his faceplate cracked the first time while he was halfway gone in old memories and-

He had to stop. He _had_ to. It wasn’t safe. He could _feel_ how close he was to losing his senses in the fluttering pulse of his heartbeat.

Jason closed his eyes and tugged hard at the roots of his hair. Agitated and anxious, he felt like he was going to vibrate out of his skin. He bounced his knees for a moment, and finally tore the blankets off the rest of the way. He was still too hot, breathing hard, his shirt clung to his skin with sweat. He needed to do something. Needed to get up and move, focus on an activity that wasn’t _not thinking._ Do something to keep the Pit at bay and keep its surging waves of anger in check.

Suddenly he thought of Titus. He itched for that stupid dog to come lay on top of him and lick his face, or just wag his tail while Jason sat with him and ran his hand over soft ears.

He stood up from the bed quickly enough that he stumbled, tossing the fidget toy on the nightstand and taking only a second to right his pajamas before he moved out of the room.

Jason was only vaguely familiar with where Damian’s room even was, but he went searching down the hall anyway. Shuffling bare feet across the carpet and squinting in the dark hall, moonlight through the windows the only thing lighting his way.

The thing was, Jason had no idea of the time, only that it was late, or early, depending. When he found the door he was fairly certain was Damian’s he couldn’t help but hesitate.

It was closed, which wasn’t surprising. It was probably booby trapped too if Jason knew the kid at all. Him _or_ the League. He was fairly certain Damian would be inside but he didn’t know how long they’d all been back from patrol. Couldn’t have been very.

And so he stood there, facing the door, fidgety, annoyed and with fluctuating anger and anxiety, wanting Titus but not wanting to wake up Damian or get caught being like _this_ in the middle of the night. It was bad enough the kid had seen him like this once before, they all already knew he was a mess.

While he stood there and breathed in the quiet of the hallway, clenching and unclenching his hands, he closed his eyes. Jason would just embarrass himself.

This was pathetic.

He was a grown man and he shouldn’t need a dog to comfort him after his fucking nightmares. He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth and wanted to laugh bitterly at himself. He stood there for longer than he should have, not knowing what else to do, feeling his sweat damp skin cool in the open air, licking pineapple chapstick off his lips and grimacing at the taste.

Bruce had said to come get him, if he couldn’t sleep or - but the idea shot ice through his veins. Bringing with it every terrible thought he’d been suppressing for _months_ already. But now - now really wasn’t the time.

He shook his head hard enough to feel the room sway and pressed both palms into his eyes, forcing himself to just - keep moving. The manor was large and open, there were plenty of places to go, and Jason couldn’t be still. So with no destination in mind, he started walking.

The hallway was long, with branches off to other parts of the house that Jason knew by heart still. He let himself wander down an old hall of portraits, nothing but shadows on the walls now. Glancing at one he knew was a picture of Bruce’s parents, he swallowed roughly, even though he couldn’t make out their faces in the dim lighting. He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his sweats and kept going, trying not to feel ghosts on his heels.

He didn’t think he could stay here.

The thought cut through everything else, like a wrong step over broken glass.

There was too much. Too much between them.

But Jason _hated_ that. He didn’t want - Bruce was _different_ than back then, than when Damian was gone, than when Tim became Robin, than when Jason showed up with an ultimatum he couldn’t handle.

He seemed better. Dick seemed to think so, the others did too.

Jason found himself walking faster, speeding down dark halls like someone was following him. He had to calm down, he couldn’t get worked up right now, or at all.

And that was part of the problem now, because even if Bruce wanted to work things out and not just pretend they never happened like it always felt before - how could they?

How could they when Jason wasn’t _safe?_

And then a solid, sinking stone fell through his stomach to the floor because - how could he go back to his apartment like this either?

Maybe he wouldn’t be going on patrol but this was Gotham and shit happened all the time. Jason’s _nightmares_ happened all the time, with increasing frequency lately. It could be as simple as that. Simple as waking up in a green haze he can’t push down anymore and finding the nearest person to use as a punching bag.

_Or target practice_ , his mind helpfully supplied.

Or what if he was walking from his apartment to the grocery store when a rogue attacked. What would he do?

If the pit hit him hard enough, if he got confused, if things got worse than they already were - he could really hurt somebody. Or worse.

He had to calm down. He needed to just - Jason stopped in his tracks for a moment, rubbing his hands up and down his face and just breathing, not thinking, swallowing the ache in his throat and pushing down his anxiety with nothing but force of will until he could breathe deep and even.

With still shaking hands he kept on down the hall, watching his own shadow as he traversed a familiar path. All the way to the stairs, up a flight, straight back, a right turn, and then there was the library, just as open and inviting as it had been before. Jason didn’t hesitate this time in the doorway. He entered and waited for the light to turn on, then put them on their brightest setting, blinding himself for a moment before his eyes adjusted. Squinting into the bright light, he stared at the open seating area in front of the fire and went left, down rows of books, running a hand down one shelf after another.

The hushed feeling of before was still there, though it was different with the lights on. It had that distinct feeling of a post-nightmare night when he’d been a kid, seeking shelter somewhere that didn’t have shadows for things to hide in.

Jason didn’t know if he’d ever felt so conflicted. He was so damn nervous about all of this. _Everything_.

About being here with everyone, with _Bruce_. About the Pit and what it could mean for him, what it could mean for all of them.

That stupid fucking dream. His stupid dysfunctional _brain_. He wanted this to work but there was an itch deep in his bones telling him not to trust it.

But then he thought, a little desperately, as he paced the library; in the grand scheme of things his feelings here didn’t matter.

He walked by the outside wall, passing a bank of windows and catching the reflection of his own wide eyes in the glass. He blinked past it to the moon, bright enough to see even with the lights on high.

So it was a hard decision, Jason needed to make it. He’d known already, even with how afraid he was of hurting the people in this house, that it would be safer than his apartment.

He couldn’t leave. For the good of Gotham he had to stay here. He couldn’t pussyfoot around it like it was just about him and his family, about any of them being comfortable or not.

He stopped in front of the last window, standing close enough that his breath fogged up the glass. His shoulders sagged, the light feeling from before he fell asleep that night seemed unreachably far away.

With a soft _thunk_ he pressed his forehead to the glass, closing his eyes and just wishing things were _different_. That there was no Lazarus Pit. That he’d never climbed out of his grave, that he never went into that fucking warehouse, that he didn’t run away to Ethiopia thinking he’d find something he couldn’t get anywhere else.

A soft sigh escaped him as he pulled back, finally shuffling toward the fireplace. There was already a book laying on the side table and when Jason picked it up he recognized it as the very same copy Bruce had been reading to him the other night. His old copy from before he ever left.

Jason paused then, setting it back down and going to the fireplace. He didn’t know exactly how to work it but he figured it couldn’t be much different than a gas stove. Sure enough a click and a dial turn later there was a cheery little fire burning and Jason brushed off his thighs and went back to the couch. He sat sideways, back propped against the armrest and legs stretched across the cushions. He picked up the book and rifled the pages with his thumb.

Bruce had bought it for him, way back when. Saw him eyeing it in a book store and picked it up without a word. Jason swallowed painfully and gave a harsh sniff, shaking the thought and opening the front cover. He began to read, pushing out all the other things, all the past, the good and the bad, all the fear of the future. He didn’t think about what the right thing was or what he _wanted_.

It was easy in the end, to lose himself to the story.

*

There was the intention to get up at some point, floating in the back of Jason’s mind. To go back to his room and take a shower and get himself put together before anybody was aware he hadn’t slept half the night but he didn’t have his phone on him. The only clock in the room was above the fireplace behind him and he never even looked up.

By the time he hit the halfway point in the book he probably should have realized it had been longer than he intended, or at least he could have noticed how bright it was outside. But he didn’t. The only thing that tore his attention away from the story was the soft knock on the library door.

Jason flinched and jerked his chin up, finding Dick standing in the doorway with a bag slung over his shoulder. He froze a little in his seat, book propped up on his bent knees.

“Hey there,” Dick said quietly, small smile in place as he walked toward the couch. “Thought I might find you in here. Glad I haven’t totally lost my touch.” He stopped behind the couch, looking down at Jason while he cleared his throat and closed the book, setting it on the coffee table and sitting up.

“Hey,” he said back, staring at the bag on his shoulder, “you heading out?”

Dick huffed a sigh and nodded. “Yeah, I start work at 9:30, figure I should get a move on if I don’t want to be stuck in traffic and end up late.”

Jason nodded, trying to ignore the anxiety starting to rewind itself around all of his internal organs. “You look tired,” he blurted without really thinking, catching the same dark circles under his eyes that Jason had gotten used to seeing in the mirror.

Dick just shrugged though, a half smile stretching over his face. “Yeah. Didn’t want to leave Damian hanging last night. My last night here and all. I’ll get good sleep tonight, no patrol for me, _Mom_.” The smile grew just a little more and Dick reached out and ruffled his hair before Jason could even jerk out of his reach.

He still smacked his hand away with a grumble. “Call me a mom and then treat me like I’m ten.”

Dick snorted but there was an easy sort of silence that followed. He leaned against the back of the couch, weight resting on his hands. “Whatcha reading?”

Jason showed him the cover and where he hadn’t been able to tell if Bruce recognized it, he could see clearly that Dick did by the oddly soft look on his face. It made Jason uncomfortable and he tucked the book between his knees, mostly out of sight. It brought up too much now, giving him flashes of the dream from the night before.

“Don’t know how you just re-read the same books all the time.”

“I don’t just re-read books. I read new ones too.”

“Sure.”

“I do, just before Bruce and Damian left on their trip I read _The Handmaid’s Tale.”_

Dick raised an eyebrow. “Dear god you read that?”

Jason rolled his eyes.

“Not that there’s anything wrong with that - It’s just that there’s more fun ways to make yourself depressed. You could just drink heavily and listen to Celine Dion.”

Jason snorted again, shaking his head and letting out a small chuckle.

“So uncultured Dick.”

His brother grinned this time, unrepentant, and leaned down, lowering himself to bend at the waist and rest his elbows on the back of the couch. “What can I say? I’m not high born.”

“Yeah,” Jason snorted. “Cause we all know I’m so regal.”

Dick only kept smirking, and while the anxiety snaking through his digestive tract began to ebb it struck hard and fast again when the easy smile shrank down to something hesitant as Dick glanced around the library.

“You sleep ok last night?” The question was carefully spoken, forcefully casual and played out as a joke when he continued, “for someone giving me a hard time for being tired so much you don’t exactly set a great example.”

“I’m fine,” Jason said reflexively, and then glanced away when Dick met his eyes with a deep wrinkle in his forehead.

“Can we all please agree to stop using that word?”

Jason heaved a sigh, pushing himself up to a more upright position. “Yeah ok, I didn’t have a great night,” he bit out, suddenly defensive and having to pull himself back a little. Of course then he just felt bad because Dick looked all _concerned._

“...Bad dreams? Or just...can’t fall asleep?”

“Dick,” Jason sighed, running a hand over his face.

“What?”

“Can we not.”

“What do you mean can we not? Do you mean can I stop asking how you’re doing? Because the answer is no.” The little bite of irritation in Dick’s voice was enough to soothe his guilt at least.

Jason didn’t say anything back right away, just grit his teeth and picked at the fuzz on his pants. He didn’t want to argue with Dick or fight about something as dumb as this, especially when he was about to leave, but it wasn’t helping that Jason was really kind of feeling like shit again.

“Listen,” Dick finally said, voice more breath than speech, “do you want me to stay? Because I know being here is weird for you and this is-“

Jason looked up then, seeing Dick wave a vague hand through the air with a disgruntled expression. “It’s stressful,” he finally ended on, looking over and making eye contact again.

Jason’s insides twisted up and around themselves because for some God forsaken reason he wanted to say yes, even though a month ago they barely spoke to each other outside of patrol and Jason ignored his every attempt at contact. Even though he’d fostered so much anger for him at one time.

But him being there made things easier. Dick was like the oil that made their lumbering machine of a family function as smoothly as possible. A constant buffer between parts that might otherwise grind each other down to dust.

But god did he look tired. And it didn’t escape Jason that it was likely his own fault. That Dick had been worried about him already days before any of the shit at his apartment went down and then amplified tenfold, swimming in his own anxiety and guilt for what he thought might be because of him.

“You can’t stay Dick,” Jason said, voice not as confident as he meant for it to be.

His brother only shrugged. “I could-“

“You’ve already missed work, you told me so.”

“So? It’s not the end of the world if I get yelled at some. They won’t fire me.”

“I’ll be fine,” Jason insisted, forcing his voice to come out stronger this time. “You’ve got a life Dickie, and that’s fair. I don’t need you looking out for me every second of the day. I’m a big boy.”

Tall words for someone who’d been mid panic attack just a couple hours earlier. So Jason maybe wanted them to be true more than they actually were. But he couldn’t keep Dick there. He was already stressed and he was always doing this shit - trying to fix everything for everybody.

Dick stared at him for a drawn out moment, eyes intense. Jason didn’t know what he was looking for but it felt disturbingly similar to one of Bruce’s looks.

“Have you thought about...if you’re going to stay, or not?”

“Jesus, Dick,” Jason shifted up even more, dropped his feet to the carpet finally and almost stood up with how tense his spine suddenly felt. “I thought you had to leave for work.”

“Don’t be like that. I’ve got a little time,” he shrugged, “and if I’m late oh well. I didn’t want to leave after last night without talking first.” With that he stood up and walked around the couch, dropping his bag on the coffee table and slumping into the cushions next to him.

“Things went pretty well I think,” Dick offered, voice quiet again, cautious.

Jason let out a loud sigh, feeling irritated and tense at being handled like he was fragile. And then resenting himself because it was obviously called for. He scrubbed his hands over his face. “Yeah.”

He was strung too tight for this conversation. Not enough sleep, too much running through his head, but he knew he couldn’t put Dick off after all the other shit that had happened.

“I thought I was supposed to have time to make the decision?” He still griped half heartedly, a sinking feeling in his stomach because he already knew what he should do.

“You do, you do,” Dick rushed to reassure, still sounding calm and collected. “I just…” he shifted in his seat, leaning forward a little and resting his hands on his knees, eyebrows drawing in at the center. “If you go back to your place, which you absolutely can, and I will completely support you if that’s what you decide to do - I’m just…”

“Just spit it out Dick,” Jason might’ve actually sounded as exhausted as he felt.

Dick frowned but he gave a curt nod before continuing, voice more confident this time. “I’m worried you’re going to cut yourself off again.”

Jason didn’t say anything at first, but he couldn’t stop his fists from clenching in the fabric of his sweats. “I’m not….” He started, not knowing where he was going with the sentence.

“I know I told you you’d have all of us on your side and you do. But…” His expression shifted again, eyebrows turning down at the edges making him look even more tired. “I know how easy it is not to ask for help when you’re by yourself.” And then his voice went even quieter, “or how you can convince yourself that asking would just be burdening everyone.”

Jason swallowed tightly, steadfastly avoiding eye contact while he refused to acknowledge the truth of the statement. His stomach twisted for the thousandth time. He was beginning to feel like a wind up toy, anymore tension and his working parts would snap.

It didn’t help that he was already feeling that way with Dick, or that the man was obviously speaking from experience, because how was he supposed to want to put this on him after _that_?

“I just think if you’re here, there will always be people around, to check on you and-“

“I don’t need to be checked on every second of the day.” It was a reflexive, back biting comment, the Pit flaring with his voice. Agitation crawled over his skin like ants, making him flush for how stupid he knew he sounded.

Maybe that was true now, but who knew in a few weeks, months, a year? It had already gotten exponentially worse in the last 2 weeks, constantly just below the surface.

“I know that Jay,” Dick continued, undeterred, “but I don’t think I’m going out on a limb here when I say you do need it sometimes. And not in a situation where you can just pretend you’re fine like you did with Tim and Steph.”

Jason flushed even more at the reference to their meeting at the park. He was beginning to get the picture of Dick’s argument, to feel out where exactly it was coming from and then he just felt bad again.

Of course Jason knew Dick was worried about him, he’d said it enough times. And he could also tell how tired he was and - and Dick was always everybody’s shoulder to lean on. Jason didn’t know what else was going on in his life and he knew he’d never say if Jason asked, the hypocrite that he was. But there was enough just in the last couple weeks to run anybody ragged.

The man deserved a break and he would clearly be more comfortable letting himself leave if he knew there would be other people to fill his shoes when he did.

Jason didn’t think he wanted to stay here.

Or at least a big part of him didn’t. Was afraid to.

But there was more of him that knew he should, regardless of what he wanted. And knowing that Dick might get some decent friggin’ sleep if he agreed to it made the decision at least a little easier.

“Ok,” he finally said, half whisper, “I’ll stay.”

Dick swallowed, looking mildly concerned, “I don’t want you to do it just because I think you should-“

“No,” Jason cut him off then, voice louder than he meant for it to be. “I know I should, I just-“ his voice cracked, surprising even him, forcing him to swallow against an unexpected surge of emotion.

Dick froze in place, eyes darting back and forth over Jason’s face before he slid across the couch until their knees were touching.

“It’s just hard being here, it’s hard-“ Jason scrubbed a hand through his hair, trying not to think about the desert, and hot sand burning through the soles of his boots, a broken, shattered helmet, trying to coordinate his limbs while he could hear the ticking of a bomb in the back of his head.

He cleared his throat, sniffing hard and swallowing.

“What’s hard Jay?”

“I still can’t trust this, ok?” The words escaped like they were running for freedom, his teeth clacking together like prison bars too late to stop them. “I know you think I should and it’s not that bad with Alfred and the others and you but-“ Bruce went unmentioned, but it was clear enough who Jason was referring to.

Dick shook his head, eyebrows tight knit together, “I don’t think you _should_ anything, I only…”

Dick ran a hand through his hair this time, looking anxious when he muttered, “I should stay.”

“No,” Jason said, hard and fast.

“Just for a little while longer-“

“No Dick. You’re not staying. You think I don’t feel like shit enough for dragging you here and making you miss work already?”

“You didn’t make me-“

“I need you to fucking _rest_.” Jason looked up then, making hard eye contact with Dick, both of them challenging. “Look, I appreciate you being here, and for - for trying so hard for me and for handling telling everybody what’s going on and not freaking out when I told you to begin with but I -“ He took a deep breath, feeling it ache in his chest, trying to find a way to make this make sense to Dick.

“You were playing Bats while Bruce was gone weren’t you?”

He looked confused for a second, a brief wrinkle creasing his forehead before it smoothed out again. “Yeah.”

“And you were doing that and working your job in Bludhaven on top of it. And probably, knowing you, going out as Nightwing some nights too.”

He frowned now, like he could see where Jason was going but he still nodded.

“And then I called you in the middle of everything and started an argument over something you had nothing to do with and you were probably driving yourself up the wall for days after that. Am I right?”

He let out a quiet breath, looking sorry and frustrated at the same time. “Yes.”

“And then you find me half dead in my apartment, you blame yourself, you probably don’t sleep hardly at all for multiple days because of it and then your juggling everybody else, trying to make sure Bruce doesn’t screw anything up and nobody takes each other’s heads off while they’re all here in the same place. And then you go out on patrol in Bruce’s place still, even though he’s back because he’s not going out because of me. And then you go out with Damian even when he _is_ cause you don’t want the kid to feel ignored even though you’re obviously friggin’ exhausted.”

As Jason was talking he could see the fight slowly ebbing out of him, the hard set to his jaw going soft as his shoulders curved forward under the weight of every damning statement.

“You spread yourself too thin Dickie,” Jason finally said, voice quiet. “We all do. But _I_ need to not be the reason that you’re doing it this time. I need to not be the reason you are missing out on your own life.”

Dick looked briefly like he might cry, eyes bright. He slumped a little, dropping his head into his hands and nodding slowly.

“You said it yourself, if I’m here there’s always somebody close. I’ll be ok.”

Dick lifted his head but stayed bowed over his knees, resting his cheek on his fisted hands as he turned to look at Jason, skin blotchy and eyes wet. “You said it’s hard for you. To be here.”

“Sure,” Jason admitted, “but I can handle it.”

There was a long silence where neither of them said anything and Jason finally heaved out a heavy sigh. “At least take a few days Dick, I _swear_.”

“Ok, alright, you’re right.” He sat up, throwing his arms above his head in a quick stretch before he let his shoulders fall forward again and he sighed. “When did you get to be all insightful?” He grumbled with a tired smile.

Jason snorted, rolling his eyes.

“At least give me a hug before I go.” He was already leaning over, arms out before he finished speaking and for once Jason met him halfway, curving forward until they both slotted together, holding tight.

This more than anything made his throat hurt and his eyes burn. His chin was probably digging into Dick’s shoulder but he didn’t say anything, just gave a firm squeeze and then briefly gripped the back of his neck. “I know you’re still nervous about this, on top of all the other stuff and that’s fair. But just give it some time. You’ll see, you’ll feel better about it.”

He spoke quietly, right next to Jason’s ear and then he gave one last squeeze and let go, drawing back slowly.

Jason nodded, not knowing if he believed Dick or not but hoping he was right. Hoping that he could just stop thinking about the bullshit from last year.

Dick clapped him once on the shoulder before pulling all the way back and standing up slowly. “I want to help you move. I can come over on Sunday and do it? If you can wait until then.”

Jason nodded briefly, swallowing and rubbing at the back of his neck. “That’s probably fine, yeah.”

Dick gave a sharp nod. “Ok, I’ll plan on it. Just let me know what time to be here.”

“Sure,” Jason said, resisting every alarm telling him to take back everything he’d just said.

“And Jay,” Dick picked his bag up off the coffee table, slinging the strap over his shoulder and pausing there. “Promise me you’ll call me if you need anything, or even if you just want to talk.

“I’ll go home, I’ll rest. But I will rest better if I know you’re not just going to swallow all your feelings while I’m gone.”

“What, you think you being here would stop that?”

“Jay,” he didn’t sound amused and Jason swallowed.

He gave a tight nod, forcing himself to suck it up. It was half a lie probably but he could have a decent poker face when he wanted to. “Alright.”

Dick stood still for a moment, bag still hanging from his shoulder while Jason stayed seated. Then in a brief flash of movement he leaned down and planted a kiss on the crown of his head, moving away before Jason could even flinch. “I’ll see you in a few days Littlewing.”

Jason turned to watch him go, mildly dazed by the whole thing as he exchanged a single parting wave with Dick before he disappeared out the door.

Jason was ok with it, he thought, or he was gonna have to be.

He couldn’t keep Dick around like some sort of security blanket and he didn’t want to need that anyway. He should be able to handle being in a house with Bruce and the others without Dick there as a buffer. Even if his stomach flipped when he thought about telling Bruce he’d decided to stay.

Jason still sat there, staring through the open library door where Dick had left from. Then he took a deep breath and pushed himself to his feet. This was the right decision, it didn’t matter how he felt about it. He couldn’t be selfish in this.

It wasn’t like he had to let himself be swallowed by it. He could handle keeping a little emotional distance. It would be harder, staying here, but he’d done it on and off for years while working side by side with the bats. This didn’t mean he had to give himself up yet.

He finally glanced at the clock, finding it a quarter to seven in the morning. No wonder Dick looked so tired, he’d probably gotten three hours of sleep. Jason scrubbed his face with both hands and thought about going back to bed now.

But the dream was still so close to the surface, he’d be lucky if he didn’t have another just like it. Besides, he’d gone on less sleep before. If Dick was going to work like that, Jason could get through the day at the manor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: Anxiety induced nightmare, involving being in the dark and not being able to see, and a small, enclosed space. There is reference to past abuse as well, and hints at Jason’s past death. 
> 
> _________________________
> 
> I just want you all to know I redrafted this chapter THREE SEPARATE TIMES before I got here. I struggled. I _slaved_ but I think I’m finally mostly happy with how it turned out. It’s shorter than I expected, because it’s _longer_ so I had to cut it off early. Which means that part of the next chapter is already written 👍 so hopefully I won’t be so long on the next one.
> 
> Chapter title from Sunn by Radical Face
> 
> ALSO, find me on [tumblr](https://batbirdies.tumblr.com).
> 
> AND, if you feel like it, I am a member of the [Batfam 18+ Discord Server](https://discord.gg/qBKcnCb) if you ever want to come scream about Batfam characters. Everyone is very chill, character bashing is not allowed, there is room for the love of ALL MY bat children, including Bruce. BUT you must be 18 years old or above. SelkieNight60 started it, and her Tim fic is catching all the Tim stans and I need to even the odds with Jason stans. ;)


	21. My trials are my friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason has a morning session with Bruce that doesn’t go so smoothly, a walk with Damian that surprisingly _does_ and a chance encounter with Cass that leaves him guessing. And then of course, one more conversation with Bruce. 
> 
> It’s a full day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This may be the longest chapter yet....Just a reminder that this fic is tagged “slow burn family relationships” for a reason 🙊 
> 
> Warnings in end notes! You may want to check it out even if you don’t have any triggers, it’s nothing terrible but it’s a weird one???

After a shower and a cup of coffee Jason felt marginally more human. Alfred was up and around and offered to make him breakfast but Jason just waved him off, cooking himself some eggs and a piece of toast.

Both candies were still sitting on the desk in his guest room.

He felt fidgety, waiting around for the others to wake up. The sort of buzzing restlessness you only got when you hadn’t had enough sleep. Now that he was feeling better physically it was beginning to chafe how little he was actually doing. He couldn’t just sit around and read books all day.

Especially if he was gonna live here. Which, he _was_. And maybe a distraction from that thought would be nice right about now too.

Because he needed to tell Bruce. Who would be glad, Jason was sure, but that almost made it worse. He didn’t want him to smile, or squeeze his shoulder, or try to ruffle his hair because of this. It wasn’t even what he wanted. And part of him resented it even while he was grateful for it.

The rest of him was so stupidly nervous about all that would come along with living here. He didn’t want to look at Bruce later in the morning and see that stupid fucking dream again.

He tried not to think about it as he slipped through the clock in the kitchen and down the stairs to the cave. He was supposed to meet Bruce at ten since he didn’t have an engagement this time. But that was still two hours away and the antsy feeling in his bones wasn’t settling.

When he got to the bottom of the stairs Jason paused.

There was a lot of upkeep done in the cave; things most people probably would never associate with the lives of superheroes. But maintaining this kind of workspace when you had no employees other than your singular butler meant doing a lot of mundane chores yourself.

Jason remembered being taught the proper way to clean and inspect their gear, grapple guns and their lines, coms, different pieces of body armor, even how to keep inventory on batarangs and smoke pellets.

Bruce had WE manufacturing a lot of their more complicated gear under the watchful eye of Lucius Fox. But he preferred to do whatever he could in house to lower the risk of detection, ever his paranoid self. That meant that Jason even learned how to _make_ batarangs. How to operate the laser cutter to get the basic shape of them, and then an entirely different machine to sharpen the edges and a third to make sure their weight was balanced and they’d go where you meant them to.

A lot of it was insanely boring. He used to take his homework down here and work on it while the machines ran, transferring batches from one machine to the next when they were done, all the while working through an English essay or studying for a math test.

Jason itched to do something productive now, like back then, even if it was boring. But he wasn’t familiar with the current equipment used to produce their toys and everybody was particular about their gear.

Already he was struggling with feeling useless. He wasn’t out on patrol, everybody was covering his ass on that end and he couldn’t even do the boring crap nobody liked in exchange.

He ran a hand through his still damp hair and hesitated, turning away from the greater cave toward the showers, an unpleasant idea occurring to him.

Alfred kept inventory on their cleaning supplies and he did a lot of the broader things like sweeping and dusting and cleaning up whatever medical emergencies took place down here. He however drew the line at cleaning the cave bathroom. He laundered their uniforms and that was apparently disgusting enough.

Jason didn’t blame him, the kind of crap you came in contact with on patrol sometimes...a single shower could leave the entire bathroom looking like a war zone and sometimes it stayed that way. Jason used to make fun of Bruce for it.

_“Batman cleans up Gotham but leaves his bathroom to a fate of soap scum and water stains - the horror of a pink ring in the toilet bowl! toothpaste dried to the sink!”_

_Bruce glanced at him through the dirty mirror, antibacterial cream on one fingertip._

_“I mean can you even see yourself in that reflection?”_

_“Keep laughing and you can find yourself a mop,” he mumbled, dabbing the cream on a healing cut at his chin._

Jason zipped his trap after that, mostly.

He was fairly certain cleaning the bathroom now was supposed to be on a rotating schedule, and that everyone ignored it entirely. Bruce couldn’t enforce it because he never took his turn, and it only ever seemed to get done when someone was in trouble for something and it was given as punishment.

He wandered to the bathroom now, apprehensive as he pushed the cracked door open and the automatic light turned on.

“You have got to be kidding.”

The trash can by the door was literally overflowing with blood stained tissues and rolls of bandages, cotton balls, paper towels, and whatever other unknowns were buried inside it. There were towels littering the floor because the hamper was also overflowing, which was ridiculous because the cave laundry was literally right next to the bathroom. The mirrors were all foggy with water stains and sprinkled specks of toothpaste; someone had actually drawn a little bat symbol with their finger in the surface of one, making Jason want to gag.

There were drawers under the sinks left open, most likely because they couldn’t close for how much junk was crammed inside, with no semblance of organization. Three boxes of bandaides sat on the counter, half spilled over the tile, their paper wrapping soaked with water and soggy. A singular _used_ one sat with the bandage face up, brown stain to the world and a long black hair stuck to one end.

There were six toothbrushes in total that he could see. Two in a cup in the center of the counter, one hanging from a stand that was clearly meant for a razor, with the last three just laying on the counter with white toothpaste stains under their heads. They had actual laminated labels sticking off the handles with everyone’s names on them; which was at least something of a relief.

He was fairly certain there was dried blood in one of the sinks.

And there was hair just...everywhere. There were literally strands stuck to everything. Long and blonde, medium and black to brown, tiny bristles of freaking stubble around one sink where a razor sat propped against the faucet.

Jason could feel his mouth and nose twisting up in disgust as he cautiously moved on to check the toilets. They at least, weren’t as horrifying, just normal discolored rings in the bowls that badly needed to be cleaned, but nothing he hadn’t dealt with before.

It was the showers though, that he was worried about. Very slowly he drew back a white plastic curtain on the first stall to reveal mountains of shampoo bottles and whatever other products, body wash, conditioner, plain old bar soap. It was standing on the shelves, overflowing and then lining the walls on the floor from there. There was soapy residue running down the sides of the containers, scum on the floor of the shower and who knew what _blue_ gunk on the walls.

Jason felt his soul leave his body though when he looked into the next one. He actually gasped, because there were _wads of blonde hair stuck all over the walls._

“Dear god,” he whispered to himself.

His instinct was the say no way in hell, and pretend he never saw the place but...it was something he could do. One nobody else liked, _friggin’ obviously_. And it badly needed doing.

Jason grimaced, growling under his breath, “they owe me for this shit.”

*

He thought he had enough time to get the whole thing done before ten, but Jason somehow underestimated the level of _disgusting_. After managing all three sinks, the mirror, and both shower stalls he went to move on to the toilets.

He glanced in the mirror as he picked up the cleaning caddy off the counter and nearly leapt out of his skin.

“ _Jesus_ , Bruce.”

The man in question looked as blank faced as Jason had seen him, blinking almost owlishly at Jason’s reaction from where he stood just inside the door.

“Sorry,” he offered.

Jason swallowed, wiping his wet hands on his pants and feeling suddenly uncomfortable. “Did you need something?”

“No,” he said quickly back, then, “well - it’s after ten, I just didn’t know where you were.”

“Oh,” Jason said back, glancing around the bathroom. He’d completely lost track of time, good or bad, he hadn’t been able to prepare for seeing Bruce. “I can finish after-“

“No, no, you don’t have to - well,” Bruce frowned, glancing around them. “You really don’t need to do this, at all.”

“I beg to friggin’ differ. You’re all animals.” When all else failed, Jason could fall back on his strengths.

Bruce’s mouth twitched up on the side and then he grimaced. “Yes, it...was particularly bad this time.”

“That’s at least something,” Jason muttered, going ahead and continuing what he was doing, not wanting to stand there and stare at each other or waste more time. He grabbed the toilet bowl cleaner out of the caddy and moved into the first stall.

Squeezing the cleaner up around the inside of the bowl, he grabbed the toilet brush and started scrubbing, feeling Bruce’s shadow move closer behind him.

“This was nice of you,” he said, voice quiet.

Jason snorted, not knowing what he felt in the moment. There was an odd sensation of disconnect, between Jason and his own feelings and between Jason and _Bruce_. He knew why he felt weird about this, but Bruce wouldn’t, and he kept telling himself to just stop thinking about it. It wasn’t going to help anything.

“It’s not nice,” he finally, said, a little less easy going than he meant to sound. “I just happen to have normal human standards.”

Bruce hummed, sounding amused and unconvinced.

“Here, hand me the bowl cleaning and I’ll start on one of the other toilets.” He leaned over Jason’s shoulders but he shook his head.

“No way, you’re not getting credit for any part of this. I’m already almost done.”

Bruce huffed a laugh. “I won’t take credit.”

“Yeah whatever, why don’t you just go do your Bat stuff out there and I’ll meet you when I’m done?”

Jason didn’t turn away from the toilet, he kept working, scrubbing at the stubborn stains while he felt Bruce hesitate behind him.

“...Alright, I’ll just be using the computer.”

“Sure, sure, I won’t lose you.”

And then he finally moved away, soft footsteps padding out on the tile that Jason could just barely make out now that he was paying attention. He felt his shoulders fall when he was alone again, tension bleeding out of him enough to leave him limp.

He had to tell him that he was staying.

It wouldn’t be so terrible if that stupid freaking dream wasn’t still clogging up his brain. It was harder than it should be, Jason thought, to stop thinking about it. He would’ve figured it would be easy by now, considering how long he’d lived with it all in his head.

Time just didn’t work that way he guessed.

A sort of numbness settled in around his shoulders as he removed the brush and moved on to wiping the whole things down with Lysol. The last two toilets went quickly, and then all he had left to do was mop the floor, replace the garbage bag in the trash and get rid of the one that was now full of empty shampoo bottles and soggy bandaids.

It took less time than he thought it would after the rest of it. Or at least it felt like it went by quickly. And then he just stood in the doorway, looking at his handiwork and feeling nothing.

Taking a deep breath and then another, he finally turned and left the room, heading down toward the computer, where it sat in a sunken part of the cave in it’s relative center. Bruce was right where he said he would be and Jason approached with noisy steps, mocking Bruce and simultaneously taking away the need to announce himself.

He paused in his typing, a sure sign that he noticed Jason, finished his sentence, or whatever it was he was working on, and then turned in the chair.

“All done?”

“Yeah, your fish tank has breathable water again, Nemo.”

There was a flash of a smile before it vanished and the man stood up, brushing his hands together. “I appreciate it. The _others_ will definitely appreciate it.”

Jason shrugged, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

There was a stifling quiet for a moment before Jason took a breath, telling himself to just rip off the bandaid.

“ _Anyway_ , I wanted to...” he swallowed, “I wanted to tell you something.”

Bruce shifted his feet, an involuntary tell Jason only recognized as an adult, like he could physically brace himself for bad news.

Jason found himself mirroring it, without meaning to.

“I think I’m gonna stay. Here. Like you...uh, wanted.”

Wow.

His stomach rolled over itself in one big motion as he waited through the standard, buffering pause for Bruce’s reaction.

“You’re sure?” Bruce asked, not yet dropping out of his braced posture.

Jason nodded, looking around the cave and trying to think up other things he could do down here if he couldn’t patrol.

“I’m...glad to hear that then,” There was an awkward stiffness between them, Bruce shifting forward after a moment, like he might do the cliche and predictable thing like pat him on the shoulder.

Jason stepped swiftly out of the way, clearing his throat loudly as he did so, feeling the hair on the back of his neck stand at the idea of being touched in that moment. He could spy the part of the cave where his dream had taken him out of the corner of his eye. Nothing but blank rock face in reality.

“Dick said he’d come over on Sunday, help me move.”

He doubted the words were enough to distract from the obvious move but Bruce was never one to call attention to that sort of thing.

“Oh, that...should work nicely. I think Tim was planning to be here then as well. We can all go, make quick work of it.”

“Sure,” Jason stared at the ankles of Bruce’s sweats, the kind of soft cotton ones he only wore when he was planning a break from training.

“Anyway, we can uh, work on your stuff now.” He resisted the urge to grimace at his own awkwardness when Bruce nodded but he didn’t want to dwell on this. He didn’t want Bruce to ask him what made him decide, he didn’t want to talk about any of it. Didn’t know if he could.

Bruce gestured to the computer just behind him, apparently allowing Jason to divert his attention this time. “I was looking over your blood test results.”

Jason blinked, feeling his heart rate climb just enough to be noticeable. “Oh?”

A tiny nod, “as far as I can tell, they look normal. Or as normal as they did previously. Other than a high white blood cell count, but that’s to be expected considering your recent infection. There was also an uptick in inflammatory markers, but that could also be explained by prolonged stress. The markers I identified in relation to the Lazarus Pit appear the same. No higher or lower count than any other sample I have on file.”

Jason felt his shoulders fall. “So we’re no closer to figuring this out, basically.”

Bruce frowned, gesturing him toward the training mats as he took a step in their direction.

“I wouldn’t say that, one option down is one crossed off the list.”

Jason followed a little slowly, feet shuffling behind. “That would imply there is a list.”

“Hn,” was Bruce’s only response, the _neutral hum of acknowledgment_ , his way of avoiding answering a question, implied or otherwise. It chafed something fierce some days, Jason tried not to let this be one of them.

There were no little boxes of toys and tricks this time when they reached the mats but Bruce did fold himself into criss cross position just like before and Jason followed suit. This particular position always made Jason feel like a little kid.

Bruce had this look of concentration on his face as he began. “I’d like to start with meditation this time, if you think you’d like to try it.”

Jason swallowed and rubbed his wrist still under the bandage, giving a short nod.

He wasn’t entirely unfamiliar with meditation. It was a whole big part of the League and their training methods and it was one of the things Bruce had taken back to Gotham with him way back when he’d first become Batman. He’d pushed some of it on Jason as part of his Robin training at one time. And then it had been reintroduced to him from the source when he’d come out of the Pit.

He did some, he thought, in the in-between time too. But it was blurry in his head and he wasn’t sure he had the mental capacity to even understand what it was then, other than sitting still and quiet for long periods of time. The problem was, despite his experience, Jason had never been good at it.

There were different kinds. But most of them involved relaxing the mind in a similar way to relaxing the body. Releasing tension and muscles you didn’t realize you were clenching until you paid attention. It was the same mentally, using sharpened focus on one thing to allow you to let everything else fall away so your mind could settle into the space they left behind and sort of...spread out. At least that’s how he thought of it.

Talia had pushed it a lot, after his dip in the pool, insistent that it could help focus his mind enough that he could gain the control he was lacking.

It didn’t work. Obviously.

Sitting still just seemed to aggravate him back then and even if he started in a mild enough mood he’d be worked up and irritable by the end. Reading books, Jason was pretty sure, was the closest he ever came to a truly meditative state.

Bruce of course, knew about his experience, and would know equally well that he’d never enjoyed it or seemed to get much out of it when he was Robin.

“I know you’re familiar with the methods of the League and some others,” Bruce said, “and I know it was never a strong suit of yours.”

Jason snorted, unable to argue.

“But there are many different methods, and there is one in particular I think might work well. Have you ever heard of movement meditation?”

Jason shifted his posture a little, resting his hands on his folded knees and he shrugged.

“Most forms of meditation involve remaining very still, in order not to let your movement be a distraction. But the act of remaining still is often a distraction in itself. For some people, learning to relax into it is helpful, but for others it never seems to quite hit the mark. Some people relax best while in motion.

“I’m sure you’re familiar with Yoga, and Tai-chi.”

“You want me to do yoga?” Jason couldn’t help the skeptical tone of his voice even if he wanted to. But he wasn’t particularly inclined anyway.

“No,” Bruce said with a small shake of his head. “While yoga can be a form of this type of meditation, it’s not what I had in mind. It’s just to help describe the process.”

Jason leaned back, resting his weight on his hands and watching Bruce closely. He was staring at this own hands as he continued.

“The point of meditation is to be fully in your own body, paying attention to what and how you feel physically, allowing yourself to let go of things that are causing stress or anxiety. To help you be more aware of yourself and your feelings and to gain control of them.”

Jason sat up again, feeling odd, nervous in a way he wasn’t familiar with.

He didn’t see how this was going to help. And Bruce’s attitude about it chafed. Like this was something small, like all he needed was to learn some self control. Like Bruce had so much. Like he didn’t lose it with the best of them despite his own regular meditation.

But he was also desperate. For anything that would help, even a little, even if all it did was slow things down. So he sat there while Bruce explained, and he didn’t say any of the more acidic comments that came to mind. No backbiting references to Bruce’s past behavior, even if some of it sat like a rock in the pit of his stomach.

He was trying to _move on._

“It works best with any sort of movement you are extremely well versed in. Some people simply go on pre-arranged walking routes.”

“...Doesn’t sound like it’s for me,” Jason said, trying not to sound judgmental.

Bruce nodded like he had expected this, “I figured as much. There’s something in particular I thought we could try together instead, if you’re up for it?”

Jason shifted his posture slightly, gripping his knees a little tighter. “Together?”

“Yes. I haven’t tried it much myself, and it’s better to teach by example I’m told.” His mouth twitched up on the side again, like he was being funny. Jason might play along some days, but this wasn’t one of them. He was too on edge still. Instead, he just grunted.

“Ok, so what is it?”

Bruce pulled in a deep breath, glancing around the cave for a moment before he smoothly pushed himself to his feet.

Hesitantly Jason followed suit, wiping his palms on the legs of his pants. “You can choose any set of movements you want to in the future. But today I thought we could try a kata that I know we’re both familiar with.”

Jason frowned but nodded. He kept up his training still, worked out in his down time, practiced hand to hand with Dick and others when they were all available, but he’d given up the disciplined routine Bruce had set when he was kid shortly after leaving the League. It wasn’t who Jason was to keep such a regimented and unchanging schedule. He couldn’t remember the last kata he’d performed or what Bruce could even be talking about.

“I’ll run through it first, to refresh your memory.”

But as he stood there with his arms at his sides watching the man in front of him shift into position with his hands held flat and knees bent it struck a chord so deep inside him it rang in his head like a bell. It was a karate kata, a very simple one, something they teach to children when they’re first starting out. Simple movements with a lot of repetition.

It was the first one Bruce had taught him when he was still too skinny to go out on patrol.

_“Practice this until you can do it by reflex alone, and then we’ll go from there.”_

Jason had complained, whined really, about how many times Bruce had made him repeat it. He’d come to him nearly everyday and say, _“I’m sure I’ve got it down now.”_ And Bruce would watch him with steady, serious eyes and nod his head and say, _“it’s good, try to keep your hits just a little cleaner, and make sure you plant your feet.”_

Jason would get so frustrated with it. Because he thought he was doing it right but Bruce always told him to keep working.

Eventually Jason decided it was a trick. Just something to keep him busy until he stopped asking to go out. He as much as threw the accusation in Bruce’s face one night, half afraid he’d get beat for mouthing off.

But Bruce just gave him that long, steady look he’d started being a little less wary of and said, _“why don’t we practice it together?”_

Jason had chafed, as always, and Bruce had gone on, _“you’re a little bit right Jaybird, this is to keep you busy in a way. It’s to keep your mind and body engaged, and to help you get familiar with how it feels to move a certain way while you’re gaining the strength to do more. No one ever does it perfectly. Even people who have been doing karate their entire lives do this routine sometimes, as practice. It’s not about passing or failing. It’s about discipline and improvement, always. I still do it too, when I need to ground myself.”_

Jason watched him move through it now, slower than normal, and he didn’t know - he felt oddly disconnected. Like he was watching from above. It went on for just a few more moments. No noise but the swishing of Bruce’s clothes and his bare feet over the mats. He stood straight when he was finished, not turning to Jason until he’d taken a deep breath.

“Do you remember it?”

Jason swallowed, hands sweating, before he replied. “Yeah,” his voice was rough, making him clear his throat. “Haven’t done it in years though. Not sure I can just do it now.”

Bruce nodded but raised a hand, motioning him a little closer. “Well why don’t we run through it together a couple times just to practice.”

Jason didn’t move closer, and for some reason - he didn’t know why - he just...did not want to do this. He felt hot and uncomfortable. Hesitant for a reason he didn’t understand.

He gave a tiny shake of his head and moved anyway, forcing himself to go against the slowly encroaching anxiety, like rising water at his ankles.

It seemed out of nowhere though. Bruce hadn’t done or said anything bad. But something about the whole thing felt off.

Pushing down on the feeling, Jason very carefully got into position.

All of this had been fine. And it was all to help, Bruce doing research on kinds of meditation that might help Jason more than they had in the past. That was...he didn’t think he should feel so weird about it.

But as Bruce reached over and gently raised one of his hands, correcting his stance and said, “you always used to do that, try to keep one hand in closer than the other.” He sounded amused and Jason remembered it too, the gentle correcting of posture and stance.

He was suddenly hit with a twisted ache of longing at the same time that his chest went tight with doubt.

Why would Bruce choose this of all things? Something so early in Jason’s life here. Something that changed his life so much back then, gave him something better to hold onto, something to focus on and challenge himself when all he’d had before was anger and frustration and fear.

_Because it’ll help,_ Jason told himself. Just like back then. That’s what Bruce was trying to do. He was trying to help.

But a large part of him also wondered if it was more than that.

Jason shifted into the next stance, body making the movement slowly, but with more surety as he went.

“Good,” Bruce said quietly, stepping back again, watching him.

Another part of Jason wondered if this was Bruce’s way of cementing his position here. Reminding him purposely of his start in the manor. Pulling up all his good memories to try to cover up the bad so Jason would feel guilty if he changed his mind or decided to leave.

He tried to tell his brain to shut up. To stop manufacturing ridiculous bullshit to make him upset when he didn’t need to be.

But as he moved into another position, almost mindlessly, - because Bruce was right, he did know this - he couldn’t help remembering how things had been before Ethiopia.

They’d been good. The two of them had been getting along. Bruce had a secret mission for him, one he needed Jason for. A sure way to make him feel proud, and important, and like Bruce thought of him as capable, trustworthy, even after all of their differences.

But none of that had been true at all.

Jason slid his feet across the mat and saw, out of the corner of his eye, that Bruce had fallen into position next to him, mirroring his movement and pace.

“The idea behind this, is to focus on the things you can feel as you go.”

Jason took a breath, deep and slow.

“The movement in your muscles, the floor against the bottoms of your feet, your clothing as it bunches and releases at your joints, any muscle soreness from previous workouts, and to focus on your breathing. To keep a pattern with your movement. It’s good to go slowly, to let yourself feel everything as you move.”

Jason nodded, a very small motion. All while his stomach turned over itself again and again as he recognized the teacher in Bruce fully coming to the fore.

This was how Jason had learned to trust. Back when he’d had no one to rely on, when all anyone wanted from him was to get rid of him or get something out of him. Bruce had given him something instead, made sure he was prepared, that it was something he wanted, that he knew if it wasn’t he still had a place here anyway.

And Jason thinks….he thinks it was probably true back then, but people change.

In his experience, usually for the worse, himself included.

He exhaled as he pushed himself up from a low position.

Abruptly he fell out of form.

Bruce came to a slow stop beside him, eyes alert as Jason took two steps away, his breath coming a little faster than normal.

“Jay?”

“I don’t want- this is stupid,” he spit out.

Bruce blinked, mild confusion reflected in his eyes.

“This isn’t going to help. It’s a waste of time.”

There was a pause, a long silence as Bruce’s eyes flicked over his form. “You seem upset.”

“I’m not,” Jason said, too loud, feeling heat creep up his neck. He couldn’t do this.

The intelligent part of him said he should just tell Bruce. The part of him that felt like this could be real and not just the repeating pattern Jason had come to expect wanted to. Thought that maybe they could actually recover from this if they could just stop pretending it never happened. Bruce had said he knew things weren’t just better between them. He’d told him before he hadn’t been trying to ignore things, he’d just been treading carefully, afraid to upset what was new and delicate at the time.

But the larger part of Jason was still afraid. Of more than just Bruce’s reaction if he knew what Jason really thought. He could feel how easily he could get sucked back in. Made to feel wanted and welcome only to have it be a lie later on. He didn’t want to feel like this. He wanted to trust it, trust Bruce but there were so many unknowns and what ifs.

The dream was an apt reminder. A warning.

“Jaylad,” Bruce said, voice quiet. When Jason looked up and met his eyes he looked worried, as much as he ever did, hands hovering away from his body just a little, like he was stopping himself from moving.

He was already upset. He could feel it in his pulse; the Pit snaking through his veins and curling around his spine. It wasn’t safe. It wasn’t safe to bring up or talk about. More now than ever before.

“I’m staying,” Jason bit out, disregarding whatever Bruce was about to say, hating how angry he sounded but not sure how else to get the words out. “I’m staying here because it’s the safest thing to do. But I’m not -“ he swallowed roughly, gesturing around the mats, blinking against suddenly burning eyes.

“I’m not gonna be your little Robin again.”

Bruce stared at him, blinked once and let his hands fall back to his sides slowly. “That’s not-“

“I appreciate your help. I do.” He swallowed, looking around the cave, avoiding Bruce’s eyes now, until they fell on the far dark edges where flat stone petered off into rougher, harder terrain. “But me being here doesn’t mean we get to have _this_ again.”

Jason hated himself, a little, for the look on Bruce’s face. For ruining something before he even really knew what it was. But there was a hurt and fury he’d tried to bury for so long now. He didn’t know if it was the Pit, or just this entire event but it all felt a lot closer to the surface now and whatever Dick said, Jason hadn’t been there for it.

He hadn’t seen these great changes yet. Not really. A few weeks didn’t prove anything.

He could see Bruce’s Adam’s apple bob in his throat, the way his face blanked like a brick wall.

“Look, I’m _sorry_ I just-“

“No,” Bruce cut in, eyes flashing up to his own, voice rough and quiet. “I understand. I didn’t mean to….” He glanced around the mats, mouth twisting in a grimace. “I didn’t mean to make you feel pressured by this, or to…” his voice trailed off and he gave a tiny shake of his head. “I understand Jay,” He repeated, all but a whisper, making Jason’s stomach bottom out like he knew all of this would.

Guilt at the disappointed slope of his shoulders ate at him and Jason resented it.

He shouldn’t feel guilty for this. It wasn’t _fair_.

“Perhaps we should continue tomorrow.”

It sounded normal, but like Batman, to Jason. Like he’d shut off, eyes focused on a point just beyond Jason’s left ear.

He stood there for a moment, just breathing, wondering if he’d just screwed all of this up for real. Wanting, for a heartbeat of an instant to take it back. And then in one more to bring it all up, to just say what had been eating at him for so long. But the surge of the Pit inside his chest told him no.

Taking a step back was the safest option. So Jason nodded, a single solid movement before he rubbed a hand over his face and turned around, heading to the edge of the mats and slipping his shoes back on while Bruce stood silently behind him.

He could hear the very faint chittering of bats in the distance and nothing else as he walked. He paused at the foot of the stairs, glancing back to find Bruce once again at the computer console, hunched in his chair, back to Jason and silent as ever.

He didn’t know how to handle this. This wasn’t what he wanted. He didn’t want to make things awkward and even more strained than they already were.

Jason wanted things to be better. But that was part of the problem; he wanted it too much. What he didn’t want was to get pulled back in and wrapped up in false comfort that he’d regret later.

So he couldn’t go back to his own apartment, he should still be cautious.

Except it was really hard when Bruce acted all concerned and did embarrassing things like _movement meditation_ and researching things for anxiety.

When he looked like Jason had punched him in the stomach just for saying he couldn’t be _Robin_ anymore.

Jason closed his eyes when he reached the top of the stairs, rubbing at them with both hands and letting out a heavy sigh before he pushed through the clock face into a thankfully empty kitchen.

The clock on the stove said it was 10:45, which meant fifteen minutes before he met Damian, which was its own thing. Something he’d been looking forward to that now just made him uneasy. Not that Damian knew what was going on with Bruce.

He took his time finding his boots and putting on thicker, warmer clothes before he reluctantly shuffled toward the main back door. Damian, of course was already there, frowning mildly to himself as he tugged at the front of his coat.

When he saw Jason, there was a brief hint of surprise. “You weren’t at breakfast,” he said, like that meant something in particular.

Jason shrugged, “I was busy.”

The kid made a face, mouth curving further down, nose scrunching up like he had _opinions_ about that. Jason was ready and waiting, already telling himself to temper his words and not snap when Damian inevitably said something that would piss him off. Not like he’d spent his morning cleaning their cesspool of a shared bathroom or anything.

Thankfully though, he remained silent, turning to Titus instead, who was sitting properly by the back door. He wagged his tail when they both looked at him, and Jason managed to quark a half smile and consciously let his shoulders fall. Damian took the head sleeve, the last, most important part of Titus’s perfectly stylish outfit, and slid it snuggly over his ears, then zipped his own oversized puff coat to his chin and gave a tight nod.

They headed outside together, just the two of them, no longer waiting for Dick or anyone else to come find them, no hot chocolate to hold while they went.

Just the dog, running after his ball and bringing it to one or the other after each throw as they cut a meandering path through the grounds. They were both quiet for a while, ice crystals in the grass crunching under foot as they went, some 10 feet away from each other. It was still just as bitingly cold as it had been a couple days before, but the snow was mostly gone, now just frozen mist on the grass and ice dripping from naked tree branches.

It was awkward, Jason thought, as they continued in silence. Like they were incapable of interacting without another person there. It started to feel like a physical thing. Like it could push them further apart with every step, drifting in different directions with nothing to keep them in place.

Jason glanced over to find Damian scowling after his dog like somebody’d just told him he was grounded from Robin. And then he wondered when he’d become so self absorbed.

Just the day before he’d been worried about this kid.

Maybe he was nervous. Jason couldn’t help but think that having him in the manor, with this going on, might be something like having a recovering addict around when Jason was younger. Damian would never show it though, if it made him uncomfortable, he’d just backbite and snap, not even allowing himself to avoid the situation because that would be _weakness_.

Jason stopped in his tracks, bending down to take the ball Titus dropped in front of him. He wound up and threw it just beyond the crest of a small hill and watched the big idiot go bounding after it in his weird doggy winter-wear and he swallowed.

“How are you feeling? About all this?”

Damian had continued walking when Jason stopped, but now he paused, turning to face him with the same scowl he’d been sporting since they walked outside. “About all of what?”

“About me. Staying here. What do you think?” Jason shoved his hands in his coat pockets and tried not to remember that this was most definitely Bruce’s coat. The same one he’d stolen a couple days before, or that it was just a tiny bit loose in the shoulders.

Damian sniffed, wiping the back of his wrist across his face and bending down to pick up a small stick. He stood with it and waited for a moment, not answering as Titus came trotting back toward them with the ball in his mouth. Damian tossed the stick just as he came near and he diverted instantly, dropping the ball and going after it.

“I do not see how my opinion is relevant.”

Jason wasn’t surprised really by the reaction except for the way it stung, just a little. He felt... _bad_ because... “Listen,” Jason said, turning to face him, “I can’t go be on my own, even if it does make you or anybody else uncomfortable but...if you don’t want me around I’ll stay out of your space.”

Damian, for all of a split second, looked stunned, before he scoffed and shook his head. “ _Tt_. I am not afraid. You sound like Father.” He rolled his eyes, but his chin took on that particularly high angle, hands fisted at his sides. And Jason tried, really tried to find the right words.

“It’s not always about fear,” he said, hunching his shoulders against a cold breeze, “sometimes it’s just shitty to remember certain things.”

Damian scrunched up his nose, like the idea was particularly distasteful but he didn’t argue, just knelt down for Titus when he came running back with the stick, adjusting the head sleeve and tucking one escaped ear carefully back inside of it. Then he took the stick one more time and threw it, putting enough force behind it to make it soar.

Damian reminded Jason a lot of Bruce sometimes, in the ways they were quiet. It could be infuriating, the lack of reaction, like they weren’t even listening to you. But Jason had grown to understand that wasn’t usually the case.

Rather than the lack of thought, more often it signaled the opposite, a weighing of all information before planning a response. Of course no matter how carefully they thought about things it didn’t mean they ever found the right words to say back.

Out of the silence Damian said, “no one has ever reminded me _less_ of Grandfather.”

Jason blinked and then snorted, unable to help being caught off guard. “Yeah, can’t say we ever had much in common.”

Damian glanced at him, eyes squinting in a sharp look like he was searching for something. It ebbed away slowly as his expression settled, becoming less severe. “Did you spend much time with him?” He asked after a moment, voice quiet as his attention was brought back to Titus, who’d left the stick behind in favor of the ball again.

Jason hesitated to say much, for more than one reason. He didn’t like to think a lot about his time there. He’d only really been around Ra’s before Talia put him in the Pit. The man hadn’t wanted anything to do with him after, and Jason never liked to think about why that was. Not that he had enjoyed his time with the man when he was basically a soulless fighting machine.

“No,” was the quiet answer he settled on. “Talia tried to keep me away from him, I think, as much as she could.”

This was maybe a risky statement on its own. Talia was one of the few things Jason and Damian had had in common before they ever knew each other. And it was a connection, yeah, but that didn’t mean it was a good one.

He wasn’t sure she’d done him the same favor when it came to Ra’s. Wasn’t sure she ever had the choice.

Damian didn’t respond for a long time, sticking his own hands in his pockets and ducking his chin lower into the folds of his scarf, breath coming in little white clouds.

Jason’s relationship with Talia was complicated. Maybe more than his relationship with Bruce even. But one of the only things he could ever really hold against her was that she never told him about this kid. He thought now, it was because she knew Jason would have taken him and run if he’d ever found out. And Talia cared, to the point of selfishness. She wouldn’t have wanted to lose him.

Either of them, he liked to think.

“I liked your drawing,” Jason blurted, halfway wanting to bite his tongue when Damian startled so hard he went stiff. He swallowed instead and told himself to suck it up and be fucking nice for once. “You’re good. Really good.”

If Jason wasn’t mistaken he could see a hint of color in the kid’s face when he cleared his throat and untucked his chin, standing tall and straight before he gave a short nod. “Thank you,” he said, crisply, not meeting Jason’s eyes and clearly having geared up to say it. It made him want to laugh and ruffle the kid’s hair and that was such a _bizarre_ feeling. He could just hear Dick’s voice echoing in his head.

_“The urges get stronger with every younger sibling.”_

“I am going back to school on Monday,” Damian finally said, apropos of nothing, while Jason was pretending to throw Titus’s ball and snickering as his head snapped in every direction, looking for it with his tail perked up and wagging.

“Yeah?” Jason asked, not sure where he was going with it.

“I thought perhaps, if you do stay, you could exercise Titus in my absence at midday. And then I will do so again when I arrive home.”

This, more than anything else, put Jason at ease. Because Damian would never ask him to do this if he really felt wary of Jason.`

He smiled a little, turning his back and kicking at the snow, “I think I can do that.”

*

As the afternoon rolled on, Jason found himself in the den again, watching tv and still feeling antsy about not having enough to do; but still so tired he wasn’t motivated enough to find something. He’d done his good deed for the day, had his standard emotional conflict with Bruce, an odd little connection with Damian. It really felt like the day should already be over. He’d been awake long enough anyway.

Just before the evening motion caught his eye and he glanced over to find Cass standing in the doorway. She stood silently for a moment, observing him in absolute stillness before she slipped into the room and took the seat on the other end of the couch. She didn’t say anything, tucking her feet up under her and drawing a blanket off the back to curl up in. She just huddled up by the armrest and let out a contented sigh when she finally stopped moving.

Jason glanced at her but tried not to stare, keeping his eyes on the screen as much as possible, but just her presence made him tense. Which was dumb, she was just sitting there. She wasn’t doing anything.

She was being as unobtrusive as possible really, but her presence there made him suddenly self conscious. What was he even watching? He barely paid attention. There was something about the rest of this family and silence. Minus Dick just about every one of them could make Jason’s hair stand on end just by not saying a word.

“We can uh - watch something else if you want,” Jason finally offered when he couldn’t take it anymore. “I’m not particularly interested in anything right now.” He held the remote out toward her, hoping the gesture would speak for itself but she only shook her head and burrowed a little deeper in her blanket.

“Not watching,” she said, “napping.”

“You’re....what?” He let his hand fall a little, hovering just above the cushion.

“I’m tired,” Was her next, simple statement, at which point she closed her eyes, perched perfectly upright.

“Oh,” Jason said back, at a loss. “Wouldn’t you be more comfortable in your room?” He asked, letting the remote fall all the way to the couch.

She opened one eye to stare at him.

“Not that you can’t nap here. I mean...it’s your house and everything. I’m not...” Jason swallowed, sort of wishing he had just let the silence go on indefinitely instead of making it worse. “I’m not trying to kick you out or anything,” he finally ended on, feeling dumb.

She continued to stare, a singular dark brown eye glinting in the light of the room. He could feel her reading him. Analyzing his posture, the muscles in his face, whatever else he knew nothing about.

Finally, she shifted minutely, her whole body compacting just a tiny bit down. “Sleep better...with someone there.” With that her one open eye fell closed again. “You keep watch.” She ended with a tiny, impish smile, before it smoothed out to something relaxed.

“Oh,” Was all Jason could think to say, barely above a whisper. He did stare then, right at her where she sat curved against the armrest.

Jason didn’t know Cass really, or at all, beyond the little snippets he’d been able to gather from the others over time. He knew she was David Cain’s daughter, and that the man was as monsterous as they came. Shiva was her mother, one more ultimately formidable opponent Jason would never volunteer to go up against. She grew up not knowing how to speak beyond the very basics, and she ran away as a kid, and somehow managed to stay hidden, even from _those_ people.

Jason remembered sleeping on his own, in empty buildings and under tents made of cardboard and holy tarps stretched over gaps between dumpsters. The hyper awareness that kept you jerking awake at every unexpected noise.

Something about the way she just drifted off, with Jason right there, no unease or caution whatsoever. He wanted to say it was stupid, not a risk anyone, even her, should be taking while Jason was as unstable as he currently was. But mostly he just felt like he’d been handed something very precious, and very fragile.

He turned back to the tv, unable to keep the blank look off his face and turned the volume down, opening the menu up and switching the subtitles on. He slouched down a bit in his seat, propping his socked feet on the coffee table and pressing his back into the cushions.

It was nice, to be trusted. It felt good, even if he wasn’t sure it was the best idea. But he was fine, right then. For now this was safe. There was little risk of something on tv triggering an episode and Jason trusted himself, in this situation, to be just as quiet and ignorable as before. But it was a different thing when someone else did too. Someone who didn’t really know him, but could still read him, like maybe what she saw wasn’t so bad.

Jason rubbed a hand across his forehead, changing the channel again when a CVS shopping show came on. He was putting a lot of stock into something very minor.

Not to mention it was shit just like this that made him nervous to begin with. People getting used to him being around, comfortable with his presence in a way they never could have been when he was only showing up for patrol. But he couldn’t bring himself to hate it this time. Instead he let it sink in, a faded feeling of welcome he hadn’t expected from any of them, let alone Cass.

Despite how tired he was and how long he stay slouched there Jason didn’t fall asleep with her. He dutifully kept guard, smiled when the cat came wandering in and hopped up between them, giving Cass a curious few sniffs before it wandered back over to Jason and laid down half on top of his arm. He was afraid he’d scared the thing off for good after the library, but a few days of scarcity seemed to set everything right again and he purred quietly, little vibrations traveling up Jason’s wrist.

He wished for a moment that things could always be this simple. Just a little brother who didn’t know how to say nice things, a cautious girl who was ever vigilant trusting him enough to sleep better in his presence, pets who were happy to see him, no matter what. If things were always like this, it would be easy, he thought.

But they weren’t, and his own damn nightmares twisted things up in his head to the point that he didn’t know if he was being stupid to trust it or if he was being paranoid not to.

*

It was hours later. After every one had eaten their own dinners, after Cass had woken from her nap but barely moved beyond a large yawn and getting up to eat, sinking right back into an identical position when she was done. Damian was drawing on the floor again, a small pile of homework laid out next to his sketch pad. Jason had migrated back here too after eating, a mug of hot tea in one hand and eyes heavy.

It was relaxed, and nice in a way their movie night never could have been when Jason was still terrified of everyone finding out about his deep dark secret. It helped that it was quiet, and small.

But of course it could never stay that way.

Jason stiffened without really knowing why, right up until he glanced up and Bruce was standing in the room. Damian looked over too, eyebrows drawing down, setting a firm scowl on his face.

“I am _working_ on my homework,” he said, waspish and tight.

Bruce was holding a laptop in one hand, closed and propped against his side while he gave Damian a matching frown. “I’m glad. I hope you’re spending more time on it than your drawings. You only have two more days.”

“I am aware,” Damian hunched over his sketch pad, like he was guarding it, and Jason would’ve smiled if not for his last conversation with Bruce. And for the way the mans eyes slowly slid from Damian over to him.

“I wondered...if we could talk for a moment. I have something I was hoping I could show you, before you turn in for the night.”

Jason couldn’t help the way his heart shot into his throat, no matter how much he wanted to. Bruce didn’t sound mad, but that didn’t really mean anything for him a lot of the time. But why the laptop? Did he find something? Something on one of his blood tests after all?

Or maybe it was-

Slowly but firmly he felt Cass’s foot press into his hip until he looked at her. She signed very discreetly, _not bad._

Jason blinked, swallowing against the anxiety and wondering how he was supposed to interpret that. But before he could really decide the shuffling of clothing had him turning back to Bruce, who was much closer now.

“I thought we could talk in my study, if that’s alright.”

He couldn’t read his face, or voice but he wasn’t sure if it was because Bruce was doing that thing on purpose, where he wore nothing on the outside, or if it was because he was nervous and he naturally shut off when that happened.

“Uh, sure,” Jason finally answered reluctantly. Part of him wanted to say no but that would just be stupid. He’d only spend the whole night obsessing over what it could have been about anyway. So he pushed himself to his feet with a deep breath and tried to seem casual.

Bruce gave a single nod and switched the laptop to his other hand before turning away from them and heading toward the door. Jason reluctantly followed, glancing back at Cass and Damian to find both of them staring. Cass with quiet, half lidded eyes and Damian with a twisted frown on his face. The kid glanced away when Jason looked at him but Cass didn’t. She raised her hand instead and signed again, _not bad,_ in more exaggerated movements, obviously trying to emphasize her point.

Ok, Jason thought as he turned and shuffled out of the room, not bad. Whatever this was, it wasn’t bad. How Cass could know that he had no idea but he was going to keep repeating it to himself.

Bruce waited for him just outside the door and Jason hesitated just a little before falling instep next to him, so he didn’t trail behind.

“You went on your walk with Damian?” Bruce asked, casual as could be, eyes still straight ahead.

Jason nodded, “yep,” not sure where the small talk was coming from, it wasn’t like Bruce.

“That’s good,” he added, though he frowned after he said it. And then he lapsed into silence.

“Yeah,” Jason half breathed back, unsure what else to say.

The walk to the study wasn’t long, thankfully.

Bruce opened the door for him when they approached, letting him walk in first. He stepped in after and then left the door propped open halfway. It was unusual for him not to close it, especially for something that was apparently supposed to be a private conversation but Jason appreciated it, as the trapped feeling he was expecting didn’t hit him like he thought it would.

Jason sat gingerly on the old leather couch, watching carefully as Bruce joined him, setting the laptop on the coffee table just between them. He opened it, entering a ridiculously long password before the screen appeared, opening up to a YouTube page Jason didn’t recognize. He openly stared at it, unsure where Bruce was going with this when he slid back on the couch.

“I wondered,” he started, voice quiet as he looked at the laptop instead of Jason. “If you were...still open to trying movement meditation, if I found a different routine.”

Jason finally tore his eyes away from the laptop to look at Bruce, who stared at it with lowered eyebrows. If the man had heat vision it probably would have burst into flames.

Jason didn’t say anything, for long enough to that Bruce finally looked up, eyes strained, nostrils flared.

“Meditation,” he started again, eyes flicking back to the screen, “more than anything I found at the outset, helped me with feeling and maintaining calm. I know it seems...perhaps trivial in comparison to the situation.” He paused again, elbows resting on his knees and hands clasped between them.

“But there are many studies that have recorded multiple benefits to every kind of meditation. There was one-“ He stopped then, as if catching himself before he went on a tangent and licked his lips. He looked back at Jason carefully, deliberately.

“If you still don’t want to, or if you need a break before trying anything new, that’s fine. But I didn’t want...to leave things the way they were.”

He sounded calm, almost overly so but when Jason glanced at his clasped hands he could seem them squeezing the life out of each other in a white knuckle grip.

“What’s the routine?” He found himself asking, voice rougher than he expected, making him clear his throat self consciously.

Bruce blinked for all of a second like he was surprised before he put himself in motion. “Not all forms of martial arts are suited for movement meditation, since it needs to be done slowly.” He moved the curser on the laptop and pressed play on the video with the sound turned off. “I thought perhaps Capoeira would be good. At least I know it’s not anything we ever...did in the cave.”

Jason watched the video silently, following slow graceful movements forming large, full body motions. He was familiar with the style though he’d never used it, to his knowledge it was halfway between dance and martial arts. More used for fitness than any form of real life fighting.

“Dick has learned some, I know.” Bruce added, when Jason didn’t speak. Hands back to clenching together between his knees. “In order to be used in meditation you would need to memorize something extremely well so you don’t have to think about the steps while doing it. So it would of course involve learning the routine.”

Jason continued to watch, his mind stalled out completely. He glanced at Bruce just to catch his eyes diverting at the last second as he swallowed audibly, throat making a slight clicking noise. “If you’d prefer, I don’t have to learn it with you.”

Jason sat up, a twisting churning sensation in his stomach at the flat line of Bruce’s mouth and downcast eyes. He didn’t know what to say.

The part of him that felt suspicious and all twisted around wanted to agree.

But another part of him felt kind of touched, and then incredibly stupid and _rude_.

Bruce listened when Jason snapped and he didn’t get defensive or angry and that was good on its own. But he also, apparently, spent at least part of his day looking for a different solution. A way for Jason to still get the benefits of this technique without all the complicated memories attached to it.

He let out a heavy breath and leaned forward again, resting his elbows on his thighs and his face in his hands. Maybe it was only a few weeks to Jason but...he did seem different.

“I’m sorry I snapped at you,” he spoke into his palms.

When he finally lifted his head and looked at Bruce, he was staring back at him with such a weird intensity Jason wondered if he was trying to see straight though to his brain.

“It’s ok,” he answered. He glanced toward the propped open door and finally unclasped his hands to wipe them across his pant legs. “The situation is stressful. Beyond that I know you would prefer not to be... stuck here.”

The end sentence was very quiet, spoken in a deeply monotone voice that Jason nearly, almost, jumped to contradict.

But he wasn’t entirely wrong. And not being honest was part of what got them here to begin with.

“For the record,” Bruce continued, voice strained, “I’m glad you decided to stay, even if it’s only for the safety of the public...I’m glad to have you here.”

Jason rubbed his eyes harshly with his knuckles and sat up straight, trying to make himself take a deep breath through the pressure on his chest. “I’ll do the routine,” he finally agreed. “....we can learn it together...since you know this stuff better than me.”

Bruce met his eyes then, something sad and hopeful there for a split second that made Jason wish he hadn’t seen it before it vanished. Bruce nodded, blinking and diverting his attention to the laptop still open between them. “Alright, I - ...thank you for giving it a chance.”

Jason almost laughed, especially as he watched Bruce awkwardly reach forward and close the screen, slipping it back into his hands and holding it there for a long moment.

“I chose a poem,” Jason said then, instead, feeling himself flush when Bruce looked at him. “I can show it to you tomorrow, when we meet up.”

His mouth twitched like he couldn’t decided whether to smile or not. He didn’t. But he did nod three times in quick succession, very un-Bruce like. “That...would be great.”

Jason could feel himself sinking into this, getting dragged back to center.

It felt like what he wanted and like suffocating at the same time and he didn’t know what to do about it. Dick said it would get easier. That he’d stop being so nervous all the time and that’s what he told himself now.

Just give it time. Give it time and every nice thing will stop feeling like it could be a trap.

Just give it time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: I was told to tag for en entirely unhygienic bathroom so consider yourselves warned! It’s disgusting.
> 
> ________________
> 
> I hope you enjoyed and that you are on board for the “slow burn” part of this fic because even I am getting frustrated with these people lmao. We will _get there eventually_.
> 
> Chapter title from Trials by IAMX (beautiful song, you should check it out!)
> 
> Please leave a comment if you liked!!! Next chapter will likely be longer again for various reasons but as always I will do my best to get it up asap. 😊


	22. A heart always holds onto missing roads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason’s still not sure about this whole thing with Bruce, but he’s trying. Tim comes over for video games and a “talk” and it’s not at all what Jason expects.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings I can think of this chapter. Enjoy!

Jason woke up the next morning to a racing heart but no real memory of his dreams. He laid there for a while, just staring at the ceiling in his half lit room and breathing, letting his heartrate come down slowly until he finally grabbed his phone off the nightstand to check the time.

It was early, just before seven, but nothing heinous like the night before so he slowly sat up, scrubbing at his face and running his hands through his hair. There were six unread text messages from the night before according to his phone and Jason hesitated only for a second before unlocking the screen.

He snorted when he read the first one.

_Dick:_  
_I heard what you did. You’re a brave soul Jason, a bigger man than any of us could dream to be 🛁_

Jason quickly tapped out a reply, a small smirk on his face as the last of his anxiety from whatever dreams were still lurking in the back of his mind slowly bled away.

_Jason: Don’t count on it happening again._  
__________

_Coward_

The next was from Stephanie and Jason nearly choked on his own spit.

_Stephanie:_  
_I’m truly grateful for the now sparkling shower, but you’ve ruined my technique. The hair on the wall was a deterrent. I used to have that stall all to myself...😔_

He shook his head in disbelief as he replied to _her_.

_Jason:_  
_You’re more terrifying than anyone gives you credit for._

And there was one from Cass.

Cass:  
😱🛁✨🤗

Jason smiled to himself before he tapped out the smiling little shit emoji because it suited him and he thought she’d find it funny.

He had three just from Tim.

_Tim:_  
_I can’t believe you touched that cesspool. Are you trying to score points???_  
_____________

_Because it’s working. I’ve literally never seen it this clean. If only it could stay this way...._  
_____________

_Btw, I was planning to head over there around lunch time. We could play that game I mentioned?_

Jason took a deep breath and stretched his shoulders back, getting out of bed and taking his phone with him into the bathroom so he could brush his teeth and grab a quick shower. He didn’t reply right away, waiting for the gentle rolling in his stomach to subside. Because there was another part Jason was fairly sure Tim had left out of his text. Last time he messaged he’d said he wanted to ‘talk’. _It’s nothing bad, so don’t worry._

Jason tried, and he’d mostly put it out of his mind, what with having plenty of other things to fill his head. But the reminder wasn’t exactly what he’d hoped to wake up to.

It really probably wasn’t bad, he told himself as he turned the water on in the shower. Tim was still messaging about the bathroom, joking around and trying to be funny. That didn’t seem like something you did when you were upset.

It wasn’t a big deal, he thought as he scrubbed down in the shower. Tim wanted to play _videogames_ Jason could handle that.

He shut off the water a few minutes later, stepping out and drying off before he slipped into a pair of track pants and an old worn t-shirt.

Finally, he eyed his cell phone on the counter. He needed to answer Tim, he didn’t want to ignore him and if there was anything Jason was learning it was that sometimes getting things over with was the best course of action. It felt cold in his hand when he picked it up, heading into his room and debating the reply.

He bit is lip as he scrolled through the last couple messages and finally just threw out something short.

_Jason:_  
_Sure, just let me know when you’ll be here._

Then he slipped it into his pocket and steadfastly didn’t wonder about what it was he wanted to discuss.

Jason went about his morning without much fuss after that, he ate breakfast by himself in the kitchen, went over the poem he’d chosen a few more times, trying to cement the words in his head, at least a couple more lines this time. And then he just felt kind of...bored and useless. He was keeping up with the antibiotics and at this point he could really feel that he was physically better.

Tired because of a lack of sleep on most nights maybe, but not the sort of bone weary that came with fighting an illness. He needed things to do, Jason wasn’t somebody who could just laze around all the time, it chafed in a way he hadn’t expected. _Think of it as a vacation_ , he told himself, and then scoffed.

Instead, he stripped his bed and washed his own sheets, receiving only a soft, fond sigh and a head shake when Alfred passed him in the laundry room.

He managed, somehow, to find ways to keep himself busy until 10, when he was meant to meet Bruce in the cave. When he eventually wandered down to the cave he found him standing at the Bat computer, bent at the waist and frowning at the screen.

“I’d like to check your wound,” he said, without looking up when Jason approached from behind.

He blinked and nodded, standing a little straighter. “Sure thing, maybe I can get rid of this stupid bandage?”

“Maybe,” was the only response he got. Bruce fiddled with something for a split second, typed three or four keys on the number pad. Jason eyed the screen but the security tinting made it impossible to see what was on it from his angle. Finally he stepped back and motioned Jason over toward the medical bay.

It was, in the end, deemed acceptable to leave off the bandage, but Bruce warned him away from getting his stitches removed.

“I think you could get away with it, but Alfred wouldn’t be happy.”

Jason sighed, letting his arm fall to his thigh. “Yeah, ok, I’ll leave it.” He just caught the hint of a smile on Bruce’s face before he turned away, tossing the old bandage in the nearby trash can. He flexed his hand a little, watching the muscles in his forearm tense and relax and the way his newly healing skin stretched painlessly now.

He hopped off the table while Bruce hesitated at the edge of the medical bay, before finally glancing back and nodding toward the practice mats. Jason dipped his chin in return and slowly followed him over. There was no laptop in sight even when Jason looked around and he narrowed his eyes when his gaze fell back to Bruce.

“You memorized it last night, didn’t you?”

Bruce blinked up at him and then abruptly looked exasperated. “The routine is 45 seconds long Jay, you’ll memorize it quickly too.”

Jason snorted and shook his head. Bruce was right, sure, but it was too typically Bruce to overlook.

“It’s 45 seconds at standard speed, but for meditation we’ll want to slow it to twice that, and then simply repeat.” He stood in the dead center of the mats and watched Jason for a second before he moved to stand next to him, so they were facing the same direction.

“Just follow my movement, it won’t be difficult.” He didn’t say it like a question, but he looked at Jason and didn’t move until he gave a short nod, feeling just a hint of the nerves he’d had the day before. But it was very different, he thought, as he lowered himself into mirroring Bruce’s position.

Where karate was sharp and precise, Capoeira was rhythmic and loose. Bruce was right, it was easy to fall into that rhythm.

They stood side by side as they moved, not speaking at all. Jason glancing over every few seconds at first to make sure he was doing it right. Bruce looked over just a couple times, but he didn’t say anything at all.

It felt very similar in a way, to what Jason had grown up doing, but nothing like it at the same time, because where Bruce would critique his technique, watching him closely, mark out every example move in clear, precise movements, he did none of that now. He just moved; and expected that Jason would keep up. It almost caught him up a couple times, when he faltered and expected Bruce to stop him and start over, or try to watch him carefully after that. But he didn’t, he just kept going, slowly, and Jason followed until he could confidently move through the entire thing without looking over at all.

It didn’t leave him breathing hard, or sweating, not with the slower than normal pace, but he did feel loose and warmed up.

They moved in silence for an unknown amount of time, just matching the other’s slow pace, repeating. Jason knew the point of this was to sort of _empty the mind_ but he was also an expert at circular thinking and it was not easy to turn off that part of his brain.

He wondered if Bruce was thinking about the day before, like he was, and if he wasn’t saying anything because he was afraid it would be the _wrong_ thing and Jason would snap again. Seemingly out of nowhere for him. Or if it was because this was simply part of the exercise, or if he was trying not to be the “teacher” here and trusting Jason was capable enough to figure it out on his own. It was stupid to even wonder about.

Ultimately it _did not matter_ and this was supposed to be about Jason staying calm and relaxing and not about upping his anxiety while his brain worked a problem that didn’t even exist.

“How long are we going to do this?” Jason finally asked into the silence when his brain wouldn’t shut up.

Bruce slowed and looked at him, finally dropping the position and standing up straight. “As long as you want to. The better you know it the more easily you’ll be able to meditate while doing it.”

Jason continued through the motions himself, completing the entire circuit two more times after Bruce stepped to the edge of the mats to grab a water. It wasn’t muscle memory yet, but he’d be able to repeat it the next day no problem.

“Are we not...doing that today?” Jason asked, shaking out the hem of his shirt.

Bruce paused with the water bottle halfway to his mouth. “If you want to, we can, but it’s no rush. I know you’re already familiar with other forms of meditation, I thought you might have more success if...I wasn’t with you.” He cleared his throat, taking a swig of the water as if avoiding Jason’s eyes. “At least in my case, it’s not really possible when someone else is with me.”

Jason snorted, rolling out his shoulders and nodding to himself. He was probably right, it would be hard to stop thinking about anything while another person was in the room. And as much as Jason disliked it, it especially applied to Bruce.

It felt good to have been in motion at least. To do something with his body that was so used to pushing itself when all he’d done for too long now was lay around and rest.

“You chose a poem, you said.” Bruce walked back toward the fridge, tossing his empty bottle in a small recycling container before he turned back to Jason, who’d immediately frozen up.

Right, he had told Bruce that, and that he would share it with him. Because he’d wanted to memorize it too.

“Uh, yeah,” Jason said, rubbing at the side of his arm. He’d snapped a photo of the page the night before as an afterthought thankfully, because reciting it aloud for Bruce sounded like actual torture. He was the one that brought it up the night before and suddenly he had no idea why or what he’d been thinking. It wasn’t like Bruce needed to know. But there was an unhelpful thought in his mind that it could be used to bring him back to center if he ever lost it again like he had before...

He swallowed harshly and dug his cell phone out of the zippered pocket on his sweats and pulled up the photo as Bruce padded back over the mats. He handed it to him without a word when he was within arms reach and Bruce took it with no expression but implacable calm.

Jason knew he could read it in a split second if he wanted to. That Bruce was practiced in some god forsaken art of speed reading with nearly perfect recall and he could probably have glanced at it twice and then never forgotten it. But he didn’t.

Jason knew because he watched his eyes move over each word very slowly, with no expression, until he reached the end, where he paused for a drawn out moment.

And then he blinked and looked up.

It’s not like it was something Jason _wrote_ , or that he had any deep feelings about it, but it still made him somehow incredibly self conscious. Because it did sort of mean _something_. He’d chosen it for a reason after all.

“It’s a little nonsensical, but that’s kind of his style sometimes,” Jason threw out, raising a hand to scratch at the back of his neck.

Bruce shook his head, eyebrows drawing down as he held out Jason’s phone to him. “I don’t think it sounds nonsensical.”

Jason took the phone, slipping it back into his pocket.

“It’s about growth, and the passage of time,” Bruce swallowed, “...and remembering the important things. I like it.” He paused, seeming not to know what to say, lips parted but nothing coming out. “It’s a good choice,” he finally settled on, slipping his hands into his pockets.

Jason felt his face grow warm, wondering how Bruce could just pick up on that stuff. Because it wasn’t like the poem actually _had_ a meaning. But those were the same things Jason took away from it. Things he’d thought it would be good to remind himself of, when he needed it.

“Thanks,” Jason managed to say back, just as he felt his phone buzz lightly in his pocket. “I haven’t got it down perfectly yet, but...I think you’re right, it does help.”

He didn’t know why he said it, other than if he didn’t speak then silence would fall again and he knew Bruce wouldn’t fill it.

The man nodded, though is eyes narrowed, “I’m glad. Did you...have you needed it, in the last couple days?”

But of course that question would come up, obviously, Jason should be better at filtering the things he said.

“Oh, just...” he shook his head, giving a shrug and taking a step toward the edge of the mats. But he couldn’t think of something better to say and Bruce frowned.

“Just what?”

“Just...” He swallowed, glancing at the floor, “bad dreams,” he finally admitted, his stomach turning at the unwelcome flash of it in the back of his mind.

Bruce didn’t say anything for a long moment, just staring at him with that deep crease between his eyebrows. “You could have woken me up. Or called, I wouldn’t mind.”

Jason shook his head, maybe too quickly, lips tight together. “Nah, I was fine.”

He almost wanted to laugh, but it would have come out bitter, because he couldn’t help but think of how ironic it was that Bruce showed all this concern over nightmares _he_ helped cause. He could see the conflict in his eyes, as he pulled a hand out of his pocket and smoothed out a wrinkle in his shirt.

“Well, if you’re ever not-“

“Yep, I got it. Know where to find you,” his voice was tight and he almost grimacedat the little flash of worry in Bruce’s eyes. It was so stupid. Bruce didn’t even know why he might be upset, he couldn’t blame him.

Of course part of him really thought he _should_. But even if Bruce wasn’t oblivious, and he understood just what kind of horrible shit he’d pulled in Ethiopia, it had been nearly a year since then. He probably didn’t go around thinking about it all the time.

Not like Jason, these days.

“Everyone was very pleased with the bathroom,” Bruce suddenly said, as if desperate not to let the conversation end. Jason blinked for the abrupt subject change but tried to roll with it.

“Yeah,” he half laughed, relaxing a little, “I got a few texts this morning.”

Bruce didn’t smile but his jaw unclenched for once and he nodded. “They were discussing what you might want in exchange for keeping it up.”

Jason snorted, “there’s not much, I can tell you that.”

He nodded, “I told them not to get their hopes up.”

“I was thinking though,” Jason said, before the conversation could go anywhere else. “I’d like to do some stuff around the cave, maybe, since I’m not patrolling.”

Bruce shook his head, “you don’t need to, honestly Jay, everyone was just joking around.”

“No, I _know_ , but I can’t just sit around and _meditate_ all the time, ok?” He snapped, grimacing at his own tone of voice. He grit his teeth and consciously softened his tone before continuing. “It would just be nice to actually feel like I’m useful for something here, you know? I can’t patrol, it’s not like I’ve got a real job or I’m in school or something. I’m not even buying my own groceries.”

The admission stung, his stomach rolling over at his own ineptitude. Bruce didn’t respond right away but Jason expected that, was getting used to the buffering silences between exchanges with Bruce again. He’d somehow forgotten about them in his time away.

“Alright, I’m sure there’s plenty that can be done, if you’re looking for work around the cave, or even upstairs. I’ll see what’s top priority for the others.”

Jason started to respond but Bruce wasn’t finished.

“But Jay, you don’t have to be useful to anyone while you’re here. I know you want to be, and I understand, but...you don’t need to be.”

Jason swallowed, his response dying on his tongue. That was so - he was utterly blank, and then instantly upset, and he wasn’t even sure _why_ , except that that hadn’t been true since Jason was a little kid.

Not since before he died.

He swallowed against a wave of heat up his spine and shook his head. This wasn’t something to be angry about. He _shouldn’t_ be.

Except that he could just remember feeling worthless. Crawling back to his safe house with a broken helmet and wondering at what point he’d stopped being anything but a tool to Bruce.

Like slow motion he saw him reach a hand out, to put on his arm, squeeze his elbow, _something_. But Jason quickly stepped back and out of range, “I’m gonna go back upstairs,” he managed to say around the rock in his stomach. “Let me know what they say I guess.”

Bruce watched him, very carefully, hand still hovering just in front of him.

“Jason...”

“No, not right now, just-“ Jason shook his head, feeling desperate to leave suddenly, wondering if every little meeting would end like this. “Just let me go upstairs,” his voice was strained, and Bruce looked lost, eyes darting over his suddenly rigid shoulders.

“Ok,” he finally said, quiet. “I’ll be down here for a little while, if you need anything.”

Jason nodded and fled before he could say anything stupid or hurtful or worse. His ears felt hot as he took quick steps up the stairs, heart pounding. He wondered if it was the Pit, or if it was just him? Were those really the things he felt or was it some stupid curse pushing up every bad thing as much as possible, trying to get him to react, to be angry, _violent_.

He grabbed a glass in the kitchen and filled it with water, downing the entire thing in one long drink. God he was so tired of thinking about this.

There wasn’t any _solution_. Not right now.

He forced himself not to toss the glass in the sink and instead set it down gently, trying to just put it all out of his mind as he dug his phone out of his pocket to check whatever message he’d received during their conversation.

_Tim:_  
_I was gonna head over soon if that’s cool?_

Jason wiped a hand down his face, not taking his eyes off the screen as he wandered out of the kitchen and up the stairs, back to the guest room.

_Jason:_  
_Sure_

He typed the message quickly, before he could think better of it and then tossed his phone on the bed without another glance.

Jason didn’t think about Bruce or Tim for the next little while as he worked through the remainder of _The Secret Garden._

Distraction was his best bet at this point and so that’s what he did. Of course when he finished the book, the note Bruce had written him fell out of the back cover, where he had tucked it while he read.

_Jason,_

_I know this isn’t a rare find, it’s not an original printing or signed by the author or anything. But it is a beautiful copy and the illustrations are large and detailed. This story always reminded me of you as a boy in certain ways, that you always find a way to thrive, no matter the circumstance._

_-Bruce_

He stared at it for a long while, remembering too, the crumpled up note and the book and movie still back at his apartment. Not knowing what to think or feel he slipped it back inside the cover and set it to the side. He’d calmed down since the cave, tried to let go of the resentment. It was a work in progress.

It was a nice thing for Bruce to say, at least.

*

Alfred had lunch laid out in the kitchen when he wandered downstairs, and Tim was already there, standing at the counter and eating.

“You could sit Master Tim, it wouldn’t kill you,” Alfred said, tone dry as ever as he set a piece of bread on the edge of his plate.

Tim frowned as he swallowed, “I’m eating like you asked, and now you want me to sit? Your expectations are a little high these days Alf.”

Jason snorted from the doorway, arms crossed over his chest.

“I know,” Alfred sighed, after looking up and giving Jason a welcoming nod. “I am exacting in my standards, now do as you’re told.”

Tim huffed a laugh but finally pulled out a stool as Jason shuffled into the room. “Master Jason, good of you to join us, have a seat and I’ll serve you.”

It used to feel weird to be served like Alfred preferred, but he’d eventually gotten used to the fussing and he took a seat without complaint.

“You all need more vegetables in your lives, I dare say,” was Alfred’s parting comment when he set Jason’s plate in front of him. A large Italian salad with some sort of homemade dressing and a slice of crusty bread on the side.

“Can’t argue with free food. Thanks Alf.”

Cass wandered in a few minutes later, made a face at the food that left Alfred sighing again. “Please at least try it my dear. There’s no olives, and made you a portion without onions as well. I worry about your vitamin intake.”

Cass eyed her plate warily but still took it, forgoing a stool entirely and hopping up to sit on the counter itself. Alfred gave her a look but didn’t say anything and Jason made brief eye contact with Tim who rolled his eyes.

“Only her,” he mumbled under his breath, making Jason snort.

Less than a minute later Damian walked in, like they’d all heard some silent summons for lunch. He ignored the rest of them, taking his plate from Alfred with a sharp nod and a, “thank you, Pennyworth,” before he took the remaining stool furthest from both Tim and Jason, at the opposite end of the island.

Then of course, Bruce joined them.

He gave Cass a warning look when he passed her. She’d propped one foot up on the counter, knee bent up in front of her and Bruce gripped her ankle and tugged it back off. “At least don’t put your feet on the counter Cassie, it’s not sanitary.” She rolled her eyes but did as she was told.

Before Jason realized it they were all just... eating together, like, unplanned and mostly pleasant.

The kitchen was big enough it didn’t feel crowded, and there was even a seat still open for Cass after Bruce sat down, but she seemed happy enough where she was. Jason wondered if this type of thing happened often or if it was just a fluke. Maybe the “silent summons” was because this was normal and Jason just didn’t know.

Either way he felt a little weird about it.

“I didn’t realize you were coming over,” Bruce said as he was sitting down on Tim’s other side.

“Yeah, I uh, felt like a visit.”

From behind, Jason could see Tim shrug one shoulder.

Bruce nodded as he started eating. “Well it’s good to have you. Did you have any plans while you’re here?”

“Uh...” he glanced back at Jason briefly, something a little unsure in his face, “yeah, I was gonna hang out with Jason a little, probably play some video games. Nothing much.” He shrugged again, turning back to Bruce when Jason made no move to interject. “There was a WE thing I thought I could pick your brain about later.”

“Oh,” Bruce looked surprised for half a second and then possibly, if Jason was reading it right, a little suspicious. “I thought you were taking a few days off.”

“Well sure, I’m not going into the office, but there’s still a thousand things to do.”

Bruce frowned.

“Tim, working from home isn’t taking time off. Those are two different things.”

Jason glanced at Alfred, who was rinsing dishes and setting them quietly to the side to drip dry. The butler glanced up with a twitch of his mustache but said nothing.

“It’s close enough,” Tim mumbled, picking at his salad and hunching his shoulders.

“No,” Bruce said, flat, “it’s really not.”

“I’m fine Bruce,” Tim sounded exasperated, like he had no idea what the fuss was about and Jason was inclined to agree because he also had no idea what this was about.

Bruce set down his fork and Jason raised his eyebrows. That meant things were getting _serious_. Now, Jason hadn’t been expecting, nor did he welcome, serious conversation but if it wasn’t about him he would watch, avidly.

“Tim, you have been working 10 to 20 hours of overtime the last three weeks. You may think you’re fine but that’s too much, and it’s not necessary.”

Tim snorted, “says you, the man who shows up every three days and signs some documents.”

Bruce frowned a little harder and Cass made a tiny choked noise and smacked one of her heels on the cabinet she was sitting on.

“...that’s what everyone else thinks yes. You however, know that’s not true.”

Tim sighed, sounding weary to the bone as he half slumped against the counter.

“You need to take care of yourself Tim, you can’t work 60 hours a week and go out at night and not run yourself down. You don’t have a spleen-“

“I’m aware Bruce, you don’t need to keep reminding me.”

“Forgive me,” Bruce said, sounding not sorry at all, “it seems like you forget. Frequently.”

Damian snorted at the other end of the counter and Jason just caught Alfred sending him a warning look before Tim turned to him and mouthed, very clearly, _shoot me,_ miming a gun pointed at his head.

Jason coughed, nearly choking on a bite of green pepper and took a drink of water while trying to hold in a laugh. It was distracting enough for Bruce not to catch the obvious gesture apparently, or at least he didn’t comment on it and Jason decided to take mercy on the kid.

“As fun as this is to listen to,” he said, setting his water down and standing up from the stool, “me and Tim have plans, remember? Come on, we can eat in the den.”

He jerked his chin toward the doorway and picked up his plate and Tim quickly scrambled out of his own seat before anyone could say anything else.

“That’s a great idea. Thanks for lunch Alfred.” He grabbed his own plate and then finally made eye contact with Bruce.

“Talk to you later, B.”

“Yes,” Jason could hear him say, loud enough to carry through the doorway as they made their exit, “we will.”

Tim rolled his eyes, hard enough it looked painful and Jason snorted.

“Thanks for the rescue effort.”

“Yeah, he always like that?”

Tim grumbled something under his breath and scrubbed his free hand over his face. “Lately, yes.”

“Since the spleen incident?”

“Uh, no, he pretty much disappeared for a while after that,” Tim said, tone wry, “which is part of why I don’t understand the _hovering_. It’s just been the last few months, since-“

He stopped, glancing at Jason and away again.

“Since what?” Jason asked, sensing the answer.

“Since, you know,” he shrugged.

“Since he started therapy,” Jason went ahead and finished, blunt as ever.

Tim blinked for a moment and then nodded, “yeah, basically. It’s...nice, but also incredibly annoying.”

Jason thought about Bruce’s words from earlier in the day and how hard it was to take them at face value.“ _you don’t have to be useful to anyone here.”_

“Yeah,” he agreed, “I can see that.”

Tim set his plate on the ottoman when they entered before going to grab a controller from a basket in the bottom of the entertainment center.

“I’m guessing you’ve never played?” He asked as he walked back to the couch and sat down.

“Can’t say I play a lot of video games, no.”

“Ok, well, it’s not hard, there’s not even really an end goal it’s just kind of...relaxing.” He shrugged as he pulled up the system menu and got the game up and loaded.

“First stop is designing a character.” Tim handed him the controller he was using and motioned to the screen, explaining the options and Jason stared at the whole thing in bewilderment. Even so he slowly picked through the options, feeling a little dumb but for how enthused Tim seemed even while he finished eating his lunch.

Somehow feeling self conscious of the little cartoon avatar he’d created, he listened to Tim explain the game, designing your island, paying rent, harvesting plants and finding things in the trees, fishing, cataloguing bugs, and he kept wondering when this was going to turn to a _talk_ like he’d been expecting. Tim seemed unbothered, watching Jason slowly learn to navigate the game and laughing when he couldn’t catch a damn fish to save a life.

“Frack, how is this so hard?” Jason shook the controller after he’d missed his third fish and Tim laughed under his breath, slouched in the cushions.

“You just have to get the timing right. Takes practice.”

“Hmph,” Jason grumbled, giving up when his cheap fishing rod apparently snapped.

They lapsed into silence for a little while, as Jason navigated the island, just getting the controls down. He could see why Tim thought it was relaxing, or at the very least, a little mind numbing, but in this particular circumstance Jason was just left wondering when the other shoe would drop.

He’d never known Tim to beat around the bush.

But maybe he was worried how Jason would react to whatever he had to say. He swallowed, as his little character shook an empty tree and then he sat still, tapping his fingers on the controller for a moment.

Tim looked at him without turning his head, and Jason stared at his hands.

“Look, I know this isn’t really why you came over.”

Tim was quiet for a long time and Jason finally looked up. “I know you want to talk about...me, I guess. Or whatever to do with the Pit or something, just...I’d rather know what it is sooner than later.”

Tim nodded, a hint of nerves finally showing.

“Yeah, ok, you’re right.” But then he fell quiet again, eyes darting around the room and a pensive look on his face.

“I’m not gonna freak out,” Jason said, voice quiet, “I mean, whatever it is, you don’t need to worry about -“

“I know,” Tim cut in, “that’s not it. It’s just...I want this to come across the right way.” He spoke slowly, like he was still thinking while he spoke and feeling the words out carefully.

Jason rested the controller in his lap, palms sweat slick over the textured plastic and he wiped them across his pant legs.

It wasn’t like Jason and Tim were best friends.

Jason really didn’t think that would ever happen. Not after all the shit he’d done before they even knew each other. You couldn’t just erase that. But Tim managed to move on from it, in a way Jason didn’t even really understand. They worked together in the field pretty frequently, and honestly they got on pretty well these days.

He was afraid to say much about any of their _history_ before beyond off color jokes because he didn’t want to stir up bad feelings. But he realized as they sat there that there were probably some things Tim deserved to hear from him, that he never had. Especially in light of the current situation.

Tim was a better actor than Jason ever was and it made him wonder how much of the casual conversation was just for show. He’d said it wasn’t anything bad that he’d wanted to talk about. But Jason wasn’t sure how exactly that was possible.

“A few years ago,” Tim said, nodding to himself, “at Titan’s Tower, Kon attacked us, tried to bring the whole place down. Mind control.”

Jason stilled, setting the controller to the side and watching him closely while trying not to just feel sick to his stomach, wondering where this was going.

“He felt terrible afterward. Even though it wasn’t his fault. I mean, we all felt pretty awful, for various reasons.” Tim swallowed, making a flash of eye contact before he looked away again. “Kon was terrified of it happening again, of what he could do if he wasn’t....in control of himself.”

Jason felt his skin break out in goose bumps, a shiver up his spine as he imagined what this would feel like if he had superpowers. If Jason wasn’t just some guy with a gun and impressive muscles.

“It was understandable,” Tim shrugged, “more than one of us have been mind controlled or hypnotized, or _cursed_. It can happen in our line of work. And no one blamed Kon. We weren’t upset with him, it wasn’t his fault.” He said it like it was just a fact of life while Jason felt mildly dubious.

“But it got us thinking, about what to do. None of us are people you want working against you. So we all decided, we’d make a plan, for each one of us. Basically a, _just in case_ measure, if one of us went off the rails and needed to be brought down. Or - stopped. Not-“ He faltered at his word choice, glancing at Jason with a grimace. But Jason didn’t react, even while he could clearly see where Tim was going, a buzzing numbness falling over his shoulders like a blanket.

“Anyway, we all agreed on parameters, because we’re _friends_. None of us want to hurt each other, as the one being mind controlled or the one trying to stop them. So we...plan ahead. Each of us knows what the plan is for the others, but not ourselves...just to be safe.”

He fell silent and Jason tried to take that in. He knew it was true, just like he knew Bruce had measures in place for each and every member of the Justice League for similar reasons. It wasn’t a surprise really, that there might be one for _him_. And he didn’t resent it, exactly, but it...

“Why are you telling me this, Tim?”

“Because...” he looked around the room, as if searching for the right words like they might be hiding behind the curtains. “Because this doesn’t make you any different than any of the rest of us. I mean...a little. But I don’t know, I thought....it might help to know. Maybe that’s stupid,” The last sentence was barely above a whisper and he shook his head before turning on the couch to face Jason, one leg bent up on the cushions and his arm resting across the backrest. “And because - I wanted you know what the plan was....just in case.”

“What - _Tim_.” Jason sat up straight, setting his feet flat on the floor from where they’d been propped on the ottoman. “The whole point is that I _shouldn’t know what the plan is.”_

“No, no, not that. Not the - not that part. I meant...If we do have to...subdue you, for any reason. If things don’t go according to plan and you do get worse. I wanted you to know we’re not just gonna throw you in Arkham, or Blackgate or something.”

Jason recoiled at the thought, chest constricting so tight he felt like he might break a rib. He hadn’t really allowed himself to think about it since he’d told Bruce.

If he lost it and wasn’t able to recover himself again, or if it became so much of a hair trigger that he couldn’t be trusted around people anymore it wouldn’t just be Jason running rampant, killing people. Because there were people here who would stop him. And Jason wasn’t fooling himself, they _could_. He could never go up against the whole lot of them and win. But what would they do with him, if they stopped him?

Jason had briefly imagined a prison cell in the cave, losing his mind in the dark, damp chill.

“Ok,” he barely managed to grit out, hands fisting in his lap. He’d told Tim he wouldn’t freak out, and he didn’t plan on it, but the Pit was not silent. He could hear it breathing in the background of his thoughts, that thrum of it just off rhythm with his own heart.

Tim licked his lips, staring at Jason with his eyebrows knit tight together. “I talked to Kon, I didn’t give him any details, but - the fortress has a medical suite. Crazy alien technology, you know? It has the ability to keep a person in suspended animation.

“I guess it was meant for long flights through uncharted space. Since Kryptonians only have powers under certain suns, they could be vulnerable, get injured. It was meant to keep them from getting any worse before they could reach a planet where they could either heal themselves, or get emergency medical treatment.

“It’s painless. He even,” Tim looked down and dug his phone out of his pocket, squinting at the screen, “he sent me a picture of one of the units, it just looks kind of like an escape pod.”

Tim held out his phone, leaning across the empty cushions between them. Jason hesitated, staring at the device for a long moment before he finally reached out and took it.

Tim was right, it mostly just looked like a narrow bed with a clear dome around it.

“So I’d get to play Sleeping Beauty, is what you’re saying.”

Tim was still hovering, half leaned over while Jason stared at the photo on his screen. He gave a nervous little huff of laughter and shrugged. “I guess you could call it that.”

When Jason just kept looking, unable to stop staring at the photo, Tim gradually leaned back into his seat, watching him closely.

“The point is, we could sort of...put you on pause. If it goes further than we think is safe, we stop it in its tracks while we search for a solution.”

Jason swallowed, throat painfully tight.

“It would just be like...sleeping,” Tim added when he didn’t respond, voice quiet.

Jason brushed his thumb against the side of the screen and took a deep breath.

It was a relief. To have this. To know he wouldn’t be kept in a cell while he slowly lost his mind or shucked into a prison with other dangerous people. The room even looked nice, pastel blue walls, softer than most everything else about the Fortress. And he’d be away from anyone he could hurt if somehow it didn’t work. And he might not have to - might not have to lose himself at all, this way. He could make the decision himself, if it came down to it, before it got too bad. If he felt like the risk was too high.

But then he imagined going to sleep and just...never waking back up.

“And what if you didn’t find a solution,” his voice was barely above a whisper and he cleared his throat, finally setting the phone down on the cushions between them, shaking his head to dispel the image from his mind.

Tim seemed to falter slightly, when he reached for the phone, giving Jason a nervous look. “W-we would though.”

Jason looked at him, eyes heavy with doubt, “and what if it’s not for ten years? I wake up and suddenly everything’s-“ He cut himself off, scrubbing both hands up and down his face, harsh enough to hurt.

“I’m sorry - you can’t have a solution for everything, I know that.” He let his arms fall at his sides and stared at the game controller sitting between them on the ottoman. “It’s - I’m glad, that...there’s something.”

“We could wake you up,” Tim said, voice hesitant.

Jason looked over to find him staring back at him, body folded up like Cass, knees tucked in front of him and eyebrows low, _concerned_.

“I mean it’s not like there’s rules to this. We could have a schedule, wake you up twice a month? Let you know what’s going on, catch you up on the search for a fix and just...you know. So you wouldn’t have to worry about that. There’s no concrete plan yet...you can have a say in it.”

Jason sat, and he tried to digest that. It would probably depend just how far gone he was if he would care about being caught up on things. But he doubted there was a better solution. Waking him up every two weeks sounded like a lot of work for everyone else but...it loosened something in his chest to know there would be a time limit on it. That he wouldn’t suddenly be brought back to a world entirely unfamiliar to him with a family that had surpassed him in age and everything else.

And to know he wouldn’t just be forgotten about.

He licked his lips and nodded, letting that settle.

“Bruce doesn’t know yet,” Tim added, flipping his phone over and over in his hands. “We talked a little, about having a plan but Bruce is...you know he doesn’t want to think it could ever get to that point.

“But I figured it was more important what you thought anyway.”

Jason looked at him, really looked at Tim and his curled in posture and the way he watched Jason back with wide, alert eyes.

“Thanks.”

It seemed like such a small thing to say, to the kid who, of all of them, deserved to want him in prison. Or at the very least who could have not said anything, telling himself Jason didn’t need to know because it wouldn’t make a difference. He didn’t have to include him in it at all. Didn’t have to make any sort of offers just to make it easier for _him_.

“ _Really_ , I...thank you.”

Jason ran a hand through his hair, tugging at his roots. He didn’t want this plan to be necessary, he hoped it never was, but knowing there was one, and what it was - it felt a little less terrifying to think about. Because even in a future where he did get worse, this didn’t sound so horrifying. Compared to all the things his brain could come up with if he let it...it settled his nerves more than he expected.

“Yeah, of course,” Tim said, shrugging and looking down at his phone, still flipping over and over in his hands. “I just thought...if it were me it’s what I would want.”

Jason didn’t say anything for a long time, not sure he could speak around the lump in his throat. He just nodded again, completely lost for words. It was a little surreal, totally quiet in the room but for the repetitive background noise of Animal Crossing playing on the TV.

He glanced at Tim out of the corner of his eye and saw him typing something out on his phone before he cleared his throat and sat up straight, slipping it back into his pocket.

“So uh, did you want to keep playing? You know with the way this game works, you could visit my island, if you wanted.”

Jason blinked at the tv screen, watching his character make little nonsense movements, never static.

“All the Titans play, actually, we share resources a lot. Except Bart, it’s a little slow for him.”

Jason huffed a laugh under his breath and reached for the controller again. “Yeah, speedsters are like that I hear.”

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” Tim rolled his eyes when he said it but his voice was fond. It made Jason suddenly miss Roy and Kori, unexpectedly.

“Here, I’ll tell you how to get to my island and then we can play together, I brought my switch, it’s just in my bag still.”

Jason couldn’t help being mildly amused by the enthusiasm, but he also appreciated it.

Tim took their dishes when he went, disappearing and reappearing with his handheld and two glasses of soda. Ten minutes later they were bartering over a hideous pair of rain boots and Jason was gawking at all the bat themed crap on Tim’s island.

“It’s a joke, all the Titan’s themed their islands after their alter-egos.”

“Then shouldn’t yours be bird shit?”

Tim stopped and glared at him, “Is that a pun?”

Jason choked on a laugh and threw his head back, resting in the cushion behind him. “Absolutely. Your island should be covered in bird shit.”

“I guess it doesn’t sound any worse than bat shit.”

The monotone delivery got him laughing and when he looked over he caught Tim smirking just before he smothered it.

An easy silence settled for a moment before Tim threw out, “so Dick told me you decided to stay.”

Jason froze up a little but eventually nodded with a shrug. “Yeah well, it’s live here or risk killing one of my neighbors over a noise complaint.”

Tim looked up from his screen until he apparently decided Jason was fine with the conversation.

“I’m a little disappointed, honestly. Now if I want to work with you on something I’ll have to come here. With the gremlin.”

Jason snorted and then, without thinking, added, “he’s not that bad.”

Tim went noticeably stiff, looking back down at his screen. “To you, maybe,” he sounded casual, but his shoulders were up by his ears.

Jason paused, thinking about the things that brat had said and done to _him_ in the past. And then he thought about being the one in the Robin costume when the kid showed up. He’d heard the stories. Thought they were funny, way back when, even while they made his stomach turn now.

“Well, if he gives you shit when I’m around, he’ll regret it.”

Tim looked up, one eyebrow raised and an amused looking smile before he stilled.

“I think I actually believe you.”

“Damn straight. I don’t make empty threats. Besides, I tried to kill you often enough. The least I can do,” he said it casually, as he had to treat everything from that time in his life. But Tim made a face at the comment and looked at Jason like he’d said something distasteful.

“What?”

“You don’t always have to bring that stuff up. It was a long time ago and...you were, you know.”

“Not myself?” Jason offered, a little sarcastically and Tim frowned, hesitated, and then set his handheld down.

“No, you weren’t.”

Jason looked down at his own controller, fiddling with the buttons and the little joystick trying to think of something humorous to break the tension and Tim said, “you feel guilty.”

Jason sputtered and looked back up, but Tim wasn’t finished.

“Ok, before we continue on the road to-“ he made a screwed up face, “brotherhood? Whatever. Here’s what I think.” He sat up straight, looking at Jason with an almost confrontational expression.

“I used to follow you guys around, at night. I think you know that.”

Jason nodded, a little wary.

“So...I got to know you. As Robin. And then you....died.” He paused, as if waiting for this to trigger something and cleared his throat when it didn’t.

“And then I sort of wrestled my way into the position and...I grew up, and crazy shit happened, and you came back and tried to kill me but...right from the start I thought ‘ _that isn’t him. That’s not my Robin.’_ and that’s not to say I thought it _actually_ wasn’t you. I understood DNA well enough to know it had to be. But I always thought something must have...must have changed you. And it couldn’t have been something small.”

“You saying you didn’t blame me? Even back then?” Jason asked, incredulous. But Tim shook his head.

“No. I hated you at the time,” he said simply, making Jason bark a short, staccato laugh.

“But I always knew there was more to the story than there seemed. I mean obviously there was. You don’t just die and come back to life three years older, a whole new set of skills and a vendetta without there being a story involved.” He shrugged again. “And then it turned out I was right, and nobody knew enough about the Pits to say _how much_ they could affect your behavior...until it just...seemed like they weren’t anymore.”

“And so what,” Jason said, “you just decided to forgive me?”

He was a better man than Jason, that was for sure. But Tim tipped his head side to side like he was thinking, and took a drink of his soda.

“Not exactly. I told myself to. That I couldn’t hold it against you. I still did though, for a while.”

Jason stared at him, controller hanging loosely from one hand between his knees. “But you don’t anymore.” He could tell it was true, even if he didn’t understand.

“No.” He shook his head.

“Why?”

Tim ran his finger over the top of his glass, condensation collecting and dropping down the sides. “Because we’ve worked together a lot, since then. And you’ve had my back and you’re an idiot but you’re funny, and you always look out for the victims, and there were a few times you really...” Tim looked to the side, like he he was really thinking, remembering something specific.

“I really what?” Jason asked quietly.

Tim swallowed, seeming reluctant, like he wasn’t sure how his next words would be received. But he went on, “you reminded me of when you were Robin. And I sort of just realized...it really wasn’t you. Because if you could be one thing before, and somehow, after all that, still have it in you after, then that’s who you really are. Not the person in between.”

Jason was still, and quiet, and completely blown away.

“Well,” he said, after sitting in silence for an extended period, “I don’t know if I ever said it but...” he swallowed, “I am sorry.”

“I know,” Tim said back, “I forgave you a long time ago,” like it was nothing.

Jason didn’t say anything to this. He didn’t think he could.

Tim gave him a brief look before he picked up his handheld again and quietly continued playing, like it wasn’t a big deal at all. And Jason just sat there, letting that sink in. He took a breath, feeling it fill his lungs, deep and full, and unrestricted. He cleared his throat. “Listen,” he said in a quiet, croaky voice, “If I ever go that direction again. If I - turn on you, or something. I want you to know-“

“Jason...,” Tim looked more uncomfortable suddenly than he had since they’d met up that day.

“I want you to know I’m sorry now. If I ever...” He swallowed painfully, dragging a hand through his hair. “While I’m still all there, I wanted to say it.”

Tim stared at him, eyes wide and unblinking before they skittered back away and across the room. He picked at the hem on his jeans with one hand like a nervous tick before he nodded. “I’m really not worried about it. But thanks.”

His voice was quiet and Jason nodded.

They sat in silence for a little while longer, up until Jason glanced over, feeling a swell of gratitude he could barely comprehend.

“So,” he said, just as Tim was picking up his glass again, “I guess we can....continue on the road to brotherhood now?”

Tim snorted into his soda and coughed.

And then coughed some more, and then a _lot more,_ until his face was bright red and Jason was about to stand up and go get someone.

“Wrong pipe,” he wheezed.

“No shit. Geez I was trying to make you laugh not _kill_ you - are you alright?”

Tim glared at him, “No more killing me jokes,” he rasped this time, covering his mouth for a short round of shallow coughs.

“That was not-“ Jason shook his head. “You’re a little shit, you know that?”

One more loud hack and then a sigh. “Yeah, I guess.”

Jason stared at him and heaved a heavy breath, “do you need me to get you a glass of water?”

Tim tossed his head back against the couch, chest still spasming in tiny coughs. “Please.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, I’m on time!! This chapter came out way faster than I was expecting. We finally get some Jay & Tim time!! Yay!! I love my sad boys<3 
> 
> I wanted to mention, I recently hit 500 followers on my [tumblr](https://batbirdies.tumblr.com). And I’m just about to hit 600 subscribers on this fic! So I thought I’d do a little fic give away. If you send me an ask with the word “drabble” in it, I’ll save it and when i hit 600 subs i will choose someone at random and write a short fic featuring two batfam members (You choose) doing an activity of your choice. 
> 
> If you don’t have a tumblr you could mention it in your comment here and ill see what I can do! (I will likely be putting names in a hat type deal)
> 
> Thanks as always for reading! Please comment if you enjoyed 😘
> 
> Chapter title from “The Missing Road” by Radical Face (brand new single I’m obsessed with)


	23. It’s all so incredibly loud

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s always when things feel like they’re going well that they begin to fall apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The slow burn continues...
> 
> No warnings this chapter either.
> 
> I will mention, before you start reading - I like Talia as a semi morally gray character, leaning more toward good than bad, and in this fic that whole _thing_ where she slept with Jason _never freaking happened_ 🤢 Nor did the horrifying retcon of Damian’s conception. 😒

Tim hung around into late evening, disappearing around 7pm into Bruce’s study to talk. Jason wasn’t sure if it was about the WE stuff or if it was for Bruce to lecture him about not overtaxing himself but Jason wasn’t about to butt in.

He headed back to the guest room around 8:30pm, read the poem through a few more times for practice and then just flipped through the book for a while, letting the words wash over him without too much thought.

Some time later, while Jason sat in the window seat, he heard the slamming of a car door and glanced up to see Tim putting something in his back seat before he walked around to the driver’s side and slipped in, starting up and heading out.

Seemed a little weird, Jason thought. He figured he would stay and patrol. Not that he didn’t have his own little home base at the Nest but with the way things were lately Jason was under the impression that he still worked out of the cave a lot. They tried to mostly patrol in pairs these days, except for Jason. Not for the lack of trying on every one else’s part.

He got a text a little while later and glanced over at his phone propped on the night stand to see a message from Dick.

_Dick:_  
_So how was your first full day without lil ol’ me?_

Jason huffed a laugh to himself and rolled his eyes, setting the book to the side and tapping out a quick reply.

_Jason:_  
_Shockingly, I survived_

He waited, watching the little dot dot dots that told him Dick was seeing his text.

_Dick:_  
_Lol, so happy to hear that._  
_______

_But for real, hows it going? You doing ok?_

Jason sighed, running a hand through his hair and wondering why Dick couldn’t just let go for like, a day. He started to write something back and ended up erasing it three times.

_Jason_ :  
~~_Oh you know, business as usual_~~  
________

~~_Haven’t killed anyone yet so thats good_~~  
________

~~_Alfred made salad, got my vegetables in_ ~~

Jason rolled his eyes at himself as he erased that one. Like Dick wouldn’t see through all of it anyway.

_Jason:_  
_Things are ok. Tim came over, we played that ridiculous animal game_

It was....an over simplification, but it was at least true and didn’t feel like he was just shrugging the question off.

_Dick:_  
_He got you to play Animal Crossing??? I’m so sad I missed this_ 🥺

Jason snorted, thinking, really, he had no idea how much he’d actually missed. That was for the best, probably. Dick would never be able to leave it alone, would never stop asking if he was alright if he knew what all they’d talked about.

But, it was good. It was...Jason shook his head just thinking about it. Overwhelmed in a way that made it all a little impossible to comprehend.

Jason sat there with his legs folded criss cross, one foot bouncing under a knee and he pulled up his text screen with Tim. Somehow it felt dumb to message him after they’d spent most of the afternoon together, but it also sort of felt like if he didn’t say something, didn’t reach out in some way, that it would be like it never happened. And Jason didn’t want that either.

_Jason:_  
_Thanks for today, I needed it_

He didn’t expect an immediate reply, but he should have known better.

_Tim:_  
_Sure, next time just don’t make me choke on my soda_

Jason felt one side of his mouth quark up as he tapped out a quick response.

_Jason:_  
_I make no promises. There’s no cure for my sense of humor._

_Tim:_  
_But we’ll never stop searching_ 😔

Jason choked on a laugh.

_Jason:_  
_I stand by my earlier statement; you’re a little shit_

_Tim:_  
💩💩💩

Jason was just debating a reply when another message came in.

_Tim:_  
_I’ve been bullied into taking the night off and sleeping, so I’ve gotta go but I’ll be there on Sunday for the move_ 👍

Jason blinked at the screen, surprised and then abruptly nervous at the reminder.

And then, almost like clock work, there was a light knock on Jason’s door. There was no question who it was and he wondered if this was gonna be the pattern from now on. Like Jason had been folded back into the _goodnight_ rounds Bruce did when he was a kid. Stopping in before he went on patrol on school nights or when Jason was sick or injured and couldn’t join him.

He slipped his finger in the edge of the book to keep his place and said, “come in,” just loud enough to be heard through the door.

Of course it was Bruce on the other side. At least he didn’t just hover in the doorway this time. Instead, he shuffled into the room and put his hands in his pockets, standing just to the side of the desk.

“I thought I’d check in,” he said, staring at the book closed in Jason’s hands.

“...ok,”

Bruce cleared his throat and straightened his shoulders, “Tim agreed to come help on Sunday, with the move.”

Jason swallowed and nodded, holding up his phone briefly. “Yeah, he told me.”

“Oh, good...” For the thousandth time, awkward silence hung in the air.

“He also told me you bullied him into taking the night off,” Jason said, when the silence started to chafe.

Bruce huffed a breath, exasperated, but his shoulders relaxed just a little.

“If I get my way it’ll be more than just tonight, but I managed to negotiate that much at least.”

Jason snorted, spinning his phone in his hands. “What’s the deal? Why so concerned?”

Bruce frowned before he responded. “He was handling most of my daily work at WE while I was away on meetings in London, and he’s been doing longer patrols than normal, just like the others while we were gone.”

And of course, since Jason’s been out of the picture was left unsaid.

“He’s always had a tendency to push his limits, but it’s not always just something he can sleep off anymore when he overdoes it. A few nights off won’t kill him.”

Jason snorted and Bruce gave him a raised eyebrow. “Timmy’s death seems to come up a lot these days.”

Then the second eyebrow followed it. “Does it?”

Jason shrugged, mouth curving up of it’s own accord and he shook his head. “Nah, just...nevermind.”

He shifted uneasily on the bed, thinking about all the extra work everyone was doing, without even saying a word. “Listen, I’m sorry I’m...I know everybody’s gonna have to pick up my slack for a while-“

“Jaylad,” Bruce interrupted, frown setting in place as he walked toward the bed. “Don’t be sorry. Everyone is happy to help. And it’s not like this is a job, or mandatory...we’re all....volunteers.”

Jason let out a tiny, half hysterical laugh as he turned to look at the darkened window. “Some charity this is.”

Bruce hummed to himself, half amused, half concerned. He hovered then, just out of arms reach before he cleared his throat. “I’m about to head out, but you can-“

“Call you, I know. I’ll be fine though.” Jason shrugged off the suggestion, opening his book again and trying to signal the end of the conversation. The longer the silences got the more uncomfortable the conversation usually was.

Which was proven true when Bruce just stood there for a long moment, staring at Jason with an unreadable expression. “Good night then.” He finally offered, giving a single nod before he hesitated, slipping his hands out of his pockets like he wanted to reach out but then thought better of it as he curled them into fists and turned toward the door.

He stopped with one hand on the frame, glancing back, “I hope you sleep well,” he said, very quietly, making Jason swallow and duck his head.

“Thanks. Have...uh - have a good patrol.”

Jason closed his eyes for a moment when Bruce finally left, shutting the door behind him. He leaned forward and pressed his forehead to the page in the book and released a slow breath. It would get easier, he told himself. Dick had said so and he was usually right about these things.

*

Jason fell asleep hard and fast and for once, woke up slowly, to sun streaming in through the windows and no echo of terror in his chest. It was late for him these days, about 8am, he’d slept a good 9 hours and he could tell by how groggy he was, but also...rested.

He stretched a little as he got out of bed, cracking his neck loudly before he brushed his teeth and took a quick shower.

His mind felt...empty. But in a good way? Not clogged full of every anxiety like it had been for weeks now. The quiet of the morning was nice and he took his time getting ready before he slipped out of his room and down to the kitchen.

Jason hadn’t much been keeping track of the days but was vaguely aware that it was Saturday, which meant a weekend, which meant that everyone was likely home. Jason remembered Alfred liked to make breakfast for all of them when he could, but especially on the weekends, when it was more likely they’d all be there.

And sure enough, Damian and Bruce were already at the dining room table when Jason wandered in. Alfred smiled when he walked through the doorway from the kitchen carrying a pot of coffee that he sat in the center of the table. “I’ve made quiche this morning, it’s just about set, just give it a few more minutes while you wake up.” He patted him on the shoulder as he walked past and Jason hummed in agreement, taking the seat closest to the kitchen, next to where Alfred usually sat.

“Morning,” Bruce offered when he sat, voice raspy with sleep. Jason only nodded in return, pouring himself some coffee and not really listening when Damian started in about school.

Cass came shuffling in a few minutes later and took the chair next to him without a word. Her hair was an absolute disaster and she had blanket marks on her cheek.

Bruce said good morning but Cass didn’t even acknowledge him as she also grabbed for the coffee, pouring herself half a cup and then adding just as much milk and three spoonfuls of sugar. Bruce watched her with unimpressed eyebrows but didn’t say anything as she started drinking it.

Finally the quiche was set on the table and Jason’s appetite officially woke up.

Everyone served themselves, mildly chaotic but low energy enough that nothing got knocked over in the process.

Damian was chattering about Titus, the only one at the table other than Alfred who seemed to be fully awake. Cass just blinked at her food as she ate, like she was still booting up and Bruce nodded along to Damian’s nonsense but didn’t look like he was listening particularly close.

That is until Alfred cleared his throat. Like a signal, Bruce glanced up, first to Alfred and then to Damian with more alert eyes.

“I do not see why I need to start back on Monday. It is nearly winter break, I could simply come back after it’s over and not miss anything of importance.” Damian stabbed a piece of asparagus in his quiche and Bruce frowned.

“I already let you stay home this week,” Bruce sounded tired, But Jason couldn’t tell if it was because he actually was and he’d never been a morning person, of it was because this was a conversation they’d had more than once.

“It’s not as if I wasn’t give the course work. I haven’t truly missed anything.”

Bruce sighed, not responding as he took a long drink of his coffee. “There’s more to school than just the classwork,” he said, like he’d said it a thousand times before.

Damian scowled and opened his mouth before he seemed to think better of whatever he was about to say and shut it again. Bruce paused in his eating and stared at him for a moment, before he glanced at Cass and then Jason and then back to Damian. “If there’s something bothering you beyond the act of just, _being at school_ then we can talk about that. But for now, remember what we talked about.

“We devote a lot of time to rescuing civilians, it’s good to see them as more than just numbers, or nameless faces. And the only way you do that-“

“Is by spending time with them. Yes, I _know_ ,” Damian grumbled, still scowling at the table.

Jason watched Bruce stare at the kid with unreadable eyes before he went back to his breakfast, frowning. “We can talk about it later,” he mumbled to his plate, eyes flashing to Cass and Jason in quick succession, no doubt thinking he didn’t want to have this conversation in front of the two of them.

Cass sat with one foot propped on the seat and her knee bent up in front of her, elbow resting on top of it as she took her last few bites. Jason blinked, staring at her nearly empty plate and then back to his own, still more than half full.

“I always wanted school,” Cass said quietly then, tipping her fork back and forth on her plate, tines scraping softly in the quiet of the room. “People’s lives....interesting.”

Damian looked at her for a long time without saying a word before he simply went back to his breakfast with hunched shoulders. Bruce looked between Damian and Cass like he couldn’t decide which of these things to address or if he should say anything at all and Jason felt a weird amount of sympathy for all of them.

Because he had a feeling school wouldn’t have been nearly as enjoyable for Cass as she might imagine it being. Not with her difficulties with language and her lack of early education. The kids might have been _interesting_ to her but they probably wouldn’t have been _nice_.

Fantasies like that were rarely based in reality though.

And of course Jason knew the real reason Bruce wanted Damian in school, and wanting him to see the value of a civilian’s life was probably part of it, but more likely it was simply the best way to explain it to Damian with the least amount of fighting. But really, Jason would guess they were trying to give the kid something normal. Give him the structure of a normal kid’s life and let him, hopefully, make friends and connect with other normal kids.

But Jason had been in that situation before and he’d loved his classes, but never been much for making friends. He was too brash, and standoffish, and he didn’t talk like the other kids. Jason would guess Damian was similar. And while there were some nice kids it was hard to tell the difference between the ones who were genuine and the ones who were just trying to manipulate you or use you for your position as Bruce Wayne’s son.

But Jason had liked his teachers at least.

“What classes are you in?”

Damian looked up again, eyes narrowed.

“I am taking the four core classes, English, History, Science, and Mathematics, I am also in an absolute farce of a physical education class and a slightly more tolerable creative writing course.

Jason’s eyebrows perked up. “Who do you have for that? The creative writing class I mean.”

“Mrs. Snowden is her name.”

“Oh man, I had her back when I was in school, I loved her class. Forget about the other kids, she is fantastic.”

Damian shifted in his seat and seemed to contemplate this. “She is tolerable.”

Jason leaned over his plate, exasperated. “Tolerable. Come on. She really got me into writing back in the day. She helped me on this short story once, convinced me to enter it in a contest-“ He cut off suddenly, feeling his face heat at bringing up something so...it wasn’t exactly personal, but it felt like it.

The way they were all staring at him as he spoke didn’t help. He cleared his throat before continuing. “I mean...she’s a good teacher. She loves her subject, but maybe writing’s not your thing.” Jason shrugged, chasing a bite of quiche around his plate with his fork. “There’s two good art teachers I remember though, if they both still work there. You should try for one of their classes next quarter.”

“What teachers?” Both Bruce and Damian asked at the same time, making Jason self conscious again, glancing between the two of them.

“Mr. Carson and Ms. Bojanczyk.”

Damian perked up, glancing at Bruce. “They still work there,” Bruce confirmed, nodding to himself. “I keep a close eye on the Academy staff after the last janitor turned out to be a frost villain.”

Damian looked back at Jason with a serious bent to his mouth but less of a scowl on his face, so that was something. “I will keep that in mind.”

Jason nodded, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly before going back to his food, just catching the little smile Cass turned his direction.

Alfred reached over from his seat and patted his arm gently, before he returned to his own breakfast as if it were nothing. Jason could feel his face warming even more and an uncomfortable tightness in his chest at remembering school. One of those things from his old life that he sometimes still thought about.

He glanced up only to catch Bruce staring at him over his coffee before they both averted their eyes and Alfred asked Cass about her dance class.

Cass perked up immediately, eyes bright and much more awake now that she had eaten and had some coffee, even if it was mostly milk.

“Fun,” she said, chin bobbing in a repetitive nod. “Learning about different styles. Now hip-hop.”

She pronounced _hip-hop_ very carefully, almost over-pronouncing it and Alfred raised an eyebrow while Bruce hid a smile behind his coffee mug.

“That does sound...interesting,” Alfred offered.

Cass grinned and nodded again and Jason found himself smiling a little in return. Right up until she turned to him with a spark in her eye and said, “you should learn.”

“What?” Jason laughed out, dropping his fork back to his plate.

Cass turned her body toward him, hunching her shoulders forward and flexing her arms. “Move tough, heavy,” she sat back again, perfectly lax, “but fun to move. Good for not fighting.” She leaned forward over the table then and served herself another slice of quiche before she looked back at him. “Could teach you.”

“Uh...maybe,” Jason said, a weird twist of fond amusement and self consciousness in his gut. His reflex was to say _no way_ , but the way she smiled made him hesitate for some reason.

She only shrugged though, going back to eating.

“I for one, think it is a great suggestion, I would love to see you make a fools of yourselves.” Damian, of course, was grinning like the evil little shit he was and Jason was about to snap something back when a piece of asparagus went rocketing through the air and nailed the kid right between the eyes.

He let out a startled noise, that quickly morphed to outrage as he smacked a hand to his forehead.

_“Miss Cassandra,”_ Alfred’s voice was heavy with disapproval, but before anyone could respond the kid was pushing himself to his feet and grabbing for a half eaten piece of toast.

“No!” Bruce barked, putting a hand up before he could throw it.

_“She-“_

“Yes, I saw,” Bruce said, and Jason could swear there was half a laugh in his voice. “Cassie, do not throw food at your brother.”

It was at this point that Jason completely lost it. He had no idea what other words were exchanged because he was laughing so hard he could barely breathe.

_“Oh my god,”_ he gasped, “I wish I got that on camera.”

It took him probably longer than was reasonable to regain composure but when he finally did Damian was scowling like an angry cat but was back in his seat and Cass was back to eating with nothing but the hint of a smile on her face. Bruce looked like he was going to crack a tooth with how hard he was clenching his jaw but Jason would bet it was to keep _himself_ from laughing and Alfred looked like, truly, he just wanted to go back to bed. Which only made it worse.

He made a valiant effort to stop, but the rest of his breakfast was spent in tiny tremors of silent laughter. He even texted Dick and Tim.

_Tim:_  
_Wait, omg, was it just a couple minutes ago? I might be able to download the security footage_

Jason had to bite his tongue then, not wanting to embarrass the kid anymore than he already was. As things were, Damian finished his breakfast without another word and left the dining table without clearing his dishes. Bruce opened his mouth like he might call him back but Alfred interrupted quickly.

“It’s alright Master Bruce, I will take care of it, let the boy lick his wounds in peace.” He sounded exasperated and Bruce let out a soft sigh, giving Cass a narrow eyed look.

“No,” she said, even though Bruce hadn’t said a word. “He made fun. Not nice.”

Bruce rubbed a hand up and down one side of his face and gave a short nod. “I know. But next time...” he seemed at a loss for a moment, letting out a gust of breath, “just don’t throw food, ok?”

From where Jason was sitting Cass seemed almost like she might just say _no_ , again, but eventually she nodded. “Won’t make a mess.”

“That’s not-“ But Bruce cut himself off, giving a tiny shake of his head. “Thank you,” was the final, monotone response that had Jason strangling another laugh.

He’d never been in the manor when there were other “kids” around. Probably, he wouldn’t have taken it well when he was younger, not when he was fresh off the streets and worried about whether or not he’d really get to stay. But he thought, if it had been anything like the last ten minutes, it would have been fun.

The rest of their meal was peaceful enough. Cass finished her second piece of quiche, kissed Bruce on the cheek and told him she was going to Stephanie’s for the afternoon, then waved at both Alfred and Jason before disappearing. Jason and Bruce both helped clear the dishes and Alfred shooed them out of the kitchen before they could do anything else.

And then it was just the two of them, standing in the empty dining room. Bruce glanced at his phone before slipping it into his pocket and looking back up. “I know it’s not quite ten, but we could head down early if you wanted, unless there was something you wanted to do first.”

Jason hesitated and then shrugged. “Sure,” he said, thinking _why not?_ For the first time in a few days, since that stupid dream, he felt a little more at ease. Maybe it was the shared meals or the better sleep, or just the passage of time - but it didn’t send his anxiety spiking for once.

So they headed down together, and wasn’t that weird? It was such a strange sense of deja-vu that really, Jason thought later, he should have seen it coming.

They went through what had become the standard in the last few days. Bruce checked over his wound, said, _‘not yet,’_ on removing the stitches. He told him he’d scanned through the blood tests again and didn’t find anything but he was considering sending the samples to the Watchtower to have Barry inspect them, and possibly some other members of the league who specialized in biology and chemistry and experimental medicine. And perhaps Zatanna and Doctor Fate too.

“Uh,” Jason said, feeling his palms sweating at the thought of so many people _knowing_.

“I could keep it anonymous,” Bruce offered, sitting in his computer chair with his hands clasped between his knees while Jason leaned against the metal exam table in the medical unit.

Jason let out a hissed breath before shaking his head. “Somehow I doubt that would work.”

Bruce frowned but didn’t contradict him, just quietly moved on.

“You have a little while before most of them will even be available,” Bruce said with a nod, glancing at the cave computer across the way. “Zatanna let me know her mission is running long, she’s not sure when she could come by. I’d prefer not to have Doctor Fate in the manor, at all. John Constantine is an option...he currently still owes me a favor.”

“That guy’s a prick,” Jason said, with no particular heat. It was true, but somewhat similar to how Jason was a prick. Just to a more extreme degree.

“He is,” Bruce’s mouth twitched in half a smile, “but he’s good at what he does.”

Jason rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’d be ok with Constantine, if he can get here sooner,” he said, trying to quell the uncomfortable feeling that this wasn’t really a question at all, just information to be imparted.

Bruce gave a sharp nod though, checking some mental box probably.

“I reached out to Talia as well, to see if she could provide any information I’m not already aware of,” Bruce said, very casually, like really, there was nothing to it.

Jason felt the words wash over him slowly, his spine going gradually rigid.

“I’m not extremely hopeful for a reply, she’s never been particularly reliable with getting back to me when I’ve reached out before but...she likes you, possibly more than me at this point.” Bruce said it like a joke even, like it was humorous that he’d contacted the woman Jason hadn’t seen in over a year, had already, apparently, informed her of the situation, or at least that it was about _him_.

Jason was so taken off guard it took him a long moment to respond at all.

“You contacted Talia,” he said finally, proud of the fact that he didn’t sound angry or anything at all, but the quiet of his voice and lack of intonation must have signaled something to Bruce who snapped his eyes to Jason’s, scanning his face.

“You contacted her, without asking me? Without talking to me first?” The quiet quickly dissolved from his voice and he pushed himself away from the table, feeling his heart already pounding in his ears.

This was it, exactly what he’d been waiting for since he woke up here. “You can’t be serious.”

Bruce seemed taken off guard, slowly unclasping his hands and sitting up straight in the chair. “I thought your relationship with Talia was amiable.”

And wasn’t that so nice? “That’s none of your fucking business! You should have _asked me!”_ He was downright yelling now and he had to cut himself off, because it felt like the library, when he lost control, and so he clamped his mouth shut, grinding his teeth so hard he felt like he might crack a tooth.

Bruce stood up very slowly, cautious like Jason was a wild animal and against the backdrop of the Pit in his head it just made him more furious. “Jason, I- I didn’t realize-“

“This is exactly what I was waiting for,” Jason hissed, cutting him off. He was gripping his biceps tight enough that his fingernails dug into his skin. “You’re so full of shit. You can’t just pull this crap on people! You don’t think I could have contacted her myself if I wanted to? God you’re so-“ Jason bit his tongue, hard enough to draw blood before he turned away.

He couldn’t look at Bruce, not at the stupid panic in his eyes. Because Jason didn’t care. He didn’t fucking care if he was scaring Bruce because it was just a sign wasn’t it? Just a way for Bruce to have control of everything.

“I’m sorry-“ he whispered, low and closer than he should have been, making Jason flinch, and rush out of the med unit.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” he said, voice tight with anger. He didn’t even know if Bruce had reached out or not and god he was _hot_. His skin was on fire and the only thing he could think was that he needed to _get out_. He could feel it coming up in him, reacting to his anger and upset, amplifying it with every breath.

Before Bruce could say or do anything else - Jason fled. He rushed to the entrance to the cave, back up the stairs and through the clock, opening it hard enough to bang the swinging front against the counter.

Alfred was in the kitchen when he walked in, startled enough by his sudden appearance that he dropped a piece of silverware on the floor. “Master Jason, are you alright?”

But Jason just kept walking, a little faster now. He didn’t go to the guest room, or anywhere else in the manor, he needed _out_. Before he could even contemplate stealing a car straight out of the garage Jason pushed himself toward the backdoor, through the mudroom, and outside.

It was raining, and so cold it was likely to turn to snow later in the day. Jason was wearing nothing but a t-shirt and sweats and a pair of comfortable sneakers he kept mostly in the cave. He barely felt it though, didn’t register the pinpricks of ice on his skin as he walked.

It took a moment of just going to get his barrings enough to try to calm himself down. He tried reciting the poem, counting his breaths.

_“In time of daffodils who know, the goal of living is to grow, forgetting why, remember how. In time of lilacs who proclaim, the aim of waking is to dream, remember so forgetting seem._

_“In time of roses who amaze, our now and here with paradise, forgetting if, remember yes. In time of all sweet things beyond, whatever mind may comprehend, remember seek, forgetting find._

_“And in a mystery to be, when time from time shall set us free, forgetting me, remember me.”_

It helped.

Going through the whole thing helped. Even just whispering it under his breath a few times. He still stumbled over the words now, not familiar enough with it to be sure, but it was distraction enough to let his heart rate calm.

He was just...he was _so furious._

It wasn’t even- Jason shouldn’t even have gotten so upset. He knew he was overreacting. It wasn’t even that he didn’t want to talk to Talia.

But that relationship was almost as complicated as the one he had with Bruce and that should have been _his_ decision. He hadn’t talked to her in over a year and that was screwed up on its own, and she’d pulled shit he wasn’t ok with, and he didn’t know how he felt about what happened when he was still a teenager, training with the league, about her showing him those pictures of Tim when he had no way to properly comprehend them. He didn’t know why she did it.

And he didn’t want her to know that he was losing it again. Because she was the one who taught him focus. Even when the Pit was in every move he made she helped him funnel it into his mission. She kept him from killing indiscriminately and he was really damn grateful for that, and he didn’t want her to know that he’d let himself slip like this.

She was so fucking strong, even through everything and he - Jason had not felt weaker since he was a runt living on the streets and running from gangs.

And now what? Now she might know anyway and Jason didn’t even know what he would say to her and how could Bruce just-?

This was exactly the kind of shit Jason had been waiting for. _The man that thought he knew best_. The one who did whatever he thought he should, because he was always right. Regardless of what you thought or how you felt.

And Jason felt so _stupid_. Because he should be looking for every solution.

He shoved his hands in his pockets, a shiver running through his shoulders for the first time.

Talia was the person most likely to have valuable information and who might actually be willing to share it, but Jason had already walked across every rickety bridge making up his most volatile relationships and he wasn’t - he didn’t feel ready. And he resented Bruce for taking that decision away from him.

But god he shouldn’t be surprised should he?

And Jason just...he couldn’t think about it this much. He had to let it go. He couldn’t let the Pit get to him and- and he stopped for a moment, feeling his t-shirt stuck to his skin from the rain. He heard the sound of feet running in the wet grass, light and quick.

Jason turned around and was nearly barreled over by Titus, wagging his tail and wearing his little rain jacket and head sleeve and when Jason squinted through the rain toward the manor he could just make out the dark smudge that was Damian, standing by the back door. He knelt down when Titus jumped up, putting them at equal height. He woofed, low and insistent, around the tennis ball in his mouth and Jason huffed.

“Alright, alright,” he whispered, voice shaky. He scratched behind his ears through the sleeve and Titus nosed at his arm, wagging his tail as he sat his butt right down in the wet grass.

Jason held out his hand and Titus dropped the ball in his palm easily. There was a stone bench just a few feet away, positioned in the perfect lookout spot at the top of a hill with a soft incline that looked back down at the grounds and toward the manor. And in the perfect view he could see a lone figure making their way toward them, a large black umbrella held above his head. He was wearing a long wool coat and dress slacks and carrying a second coat in his other arm. Probably the one Jason had stolen from Bruce if he had to guess.

Jason sat down a little hard on the bench, beginning to feel the chill as he tossed Titus’s ball out into the rain and waited for Alfred to reach them. He felt bad, watching the old man approach. It wasn’t a short walk, and he should just go meet him where he was and go back inside.

He was just so upset.

Not even at what Bruce did just...he just wished this was _easier_ , that things were simpler.

Jason knew Bruce didn’t _get it_. That even if he should have known to ask Jason first, he also probably had no idea what a big deal it would be to him. But he couldn’t stop himself from wondering if it would have mattered.

If Jason had told him not to, would he have just done it secretly? Without telling him?

He hated this.

He hate it because he _wanted_ Bruce. He wanted his dad and he could see that in Bruce. He could see the man he used to look to when he was a kid, who held him up when his world was falling apart and he hated having all this other shit between them but they couldn’t even _talk about it._ Jason couldn’t tell Bruce any of this because it was fucking dangerous and he just-

Titus rested his head on Jason’s knee, ball dropped and forgotten a few feet away. He was soaking wet now, his clothes were drenched and his skin felt like ice and he started shivering for real. He should have gone back inside a while ago, probably, he thought as he stroked a thumb over Titus’s forehead and between his eyes, watching his wrinkled skin smooth out and his eyelids flutter closed.

He could hear the squelching of leather shoes and he finally looked up when a shadow entered his line of site and suddenly the rain stopped. Alfred looked down at him with pressed thin lips and tired eyes and held out the umbrella.

“I would like to remind you,” he said when Jason took it from him, as he shuffled the coat in his arms around until he could shake it out and wrap it around Jason’s shoulders. “Very recently, you were quite deathly ill.” Then he took the empty seat on his right.

Titus wagged his tail and Jason kept stroking at his face, water beading off the tips of his hair and dripping into the grass. Alfred carefully took the umbrella back with his right hand and Jason felt his other wiry, strong arm wrap around his shoulders.

“I do hope,” he said after a quiet moment, “that you’re alright my boy. That nothing was said that is...irreconcilable.”

He sounded honestly worried, more than Alfred usually let on and Jason couldn’t help but slump forward a little, rubbing at his face at he sagged into Alfred’s side. “No,” he said, “It’s not- I’m just getting mad about nothing.” A hard shiver racked through his frame and Alfred rubbed his hand briskly up and down Jason’s arm. The coat was thick enough he couldn’t really feel the friction of it, but the pressure on his skin felt grounding.

“Hm, I’ve never known you to be angry over _nothing_.”

Jason snorted, a little incredulous as he rubbed at Titus’s ears through the fabric. Alfred shifted, turned his body just slightly to face him better and then he said, very quietly, “perhaps your anger can be...misdirected. It may seem as if it is about one thing, when in fact it is about another...but it is never over nothing.”

Jason let that sit for a while, folding into the chaotic mess of everything else churning in his stomach and then he asked, “why is this so hard Alfred?” His voice cracked in the middle, soft and strained.

“I’ve found,” Alfred said after a long pause, like even he had a hard time finding the right words, “that most things in life that are worth doing, are quite difficult.” Then he gave a firm squeeze around Jason’s shoulders.

“However, I do wish I could make it easier for you. Will you come inside? Take a shower and I can make you some tea to warm you up?”

Jason swallowed roughly, feeling the chill in his bones and the uncomfortable wetness of his clothes clinging to his skin, numbing the tips of his fingers and toes. Titus was getting all muddy too, his fur wet and shiny where it wasn’t covered. And Alfred was probably freezing. He always hated the cold, never went out in it if he could help it.

“Ok,” Jason finally agreed on a soft breath, feeling heavy in his soul.

Alfred squeezed around his shoulders one more time before he stood up, standing expectantly to the side while Jason pushed himself to his feet. He took the umbrella when Alfred had to hold it high above his own head in order to cover them both and the butler gave him a soft smile as they walked back together, Titus alternating between following at their side and running ahead.

Alfred took the coat from Jason’s shoulders when they got inside, setting it in the laundry room instead of hanging it back up while Jason took a minute to dry off Titus’s feet with a towel before he tracked mud in the manor.

Damian was sitting at the dining table drawing when he came through. Jason had to fight himself not to freeze in place when the kid looked up at him. He kept going instead, ignoring the silent staring as he trudged through the room in wet socks.

“Titus, stay,” was the last he heard before he was out of ear shot.

Jason showered, but mostly he just stood under the hot water for a long time, letting the chill seep out until he felt nearly overheated. He laid his wet clothes over the top of his hamper, hoping they’d dry out a little without being wadded up in the bottom and he changed into another set of sweats. It was his last clean pair, considering he didn’t have many changes of clothes with him.

Then he just stood in the middle of the room for a while, staring at the bedroom door and steadfastly trying not to think and just - just go back downstairs and drink the tea so Alfred wouldn’t be worried. With one heaving breath he finally managed to push himself back down to the kitchen.

Damian had disappeared from the dining room when he got there, leaving Jason alone with Alfred, worrying absently that Bruce would show up and then feeling a twist of bitter amusement at the thought. The only possible outcome to this was Bruce avoiding him, just like Jason was doing in return.

He didn’t think about it. Instead he wrapped his hands around the mug Alfred set in front of him and pressed the heat into his skin and didn’t think about talking to Bruce after this.

Even while he was now physically calm, he couldn’t shake the anger and anxiety and even Alfred’s fussing wasn’t helping. Jason forced down half a sandwich when the butler insisted on making him one, eating mechanically because he knew he needed it. He felt bad at the concerned looks he kept sending him but he didn’t have the energy to soothe it and as soon as his tea was finished he disappeared back to his room.

*

He read, but not the book Bruce got him. Not the poetry nor _The Secret Garden_ , having finished it. He pulled a random book from the shelf in the room and tried to lose himself in it. No one bothered him for most of the day.

Alfred brought him dinner when the time rolled around and Jason thought about texting Dick. Or Tim. Or Babs, but he didn’t know what he would say.

And so Jason stayed in his room and ate dinner and tried not to think about the next day and how much more permanent this was all about to become.

*

It was late. Late enough that Jason was lying in bed already, wondering if he’d be able to sleep that night and not expecting to see Bruce at all.

But of course, these days Jason’s expectations weren’t always met.

There was a knock at the door and he stiffened. He sat up, blankets pooling in his lap as he stared at the door with nothing but the moonlight shining through his window. He just sat there for a long time, wondering if Bruce would leave if he didn’t answer and then he just felt fed up with himself.

“What?” He finally snapped, loud enough to be heard through the door.

There was a pause, and then the knob turned and the door cracked open and then just sat there, like Bruce couldn’t decide if that was an invitation or not. Jason rolled his eyes. “Just come in already.”

The door opened further, spilling light from the hall across the floor and backlighting Bruce standing there, hand still on the knob. Jason couldn’t see his face. “Can we talk?” He asked, voice deadly serious.

Jason didn’t say anything, looking at his hands folded in his lap for a long time. Bruce apparently took this as invitation enough and slowly stepped into the room.

“At least turn on the fucking light,” Jason snapped, shoulders hunching forward.

His footsteps paused and then Jason was squinting to adjust to the sudden brightness in the room. For long enough that he still didn’t see Bruce’s face until he set the door against the frame behind him and slowly walked to the bed, sitting down near Jason’s feet.

He looked tense, like he was moments away from an involuntary bat-glare.

“...I’m sorry,” Bruce offered, after a pause, “I didn’t realize you were already in bed.”

Jason still didn’t say anything. Felt no words urging to be let out, there was just nothing.

After the silence dragged on longer than even Jason expected, Bruce’s eyes drew up from his hands and met Jason’s. “You’re angry with me.”

He blinked, feeling an unexpected flare of it right then, of inexplicable anger and the Pit along with it. “You really are the world’s greatest detective,” he said back, sarcasm heavy in every word.

Bruce didn’t react beyond a tensing in his jaw, eyes darting to Jason’s nightstand and then the door and then his hands again. “...I’m sorry I contacted Talia without asking you first,” he finally said, stiffly and without acknowledging Jason’s comment. “It was not my intention...to take control of the situation away from you.” He formed the words carefully, like he’d been thinking about them all afternoon.

“I didn’t realize that- I hadn’t thought about the things you said. But regardless, I should have run my plans by you first. I’m sorry that I didn’t.”

Jason sat there, silent, staring at Bruce’s hands clasped in his lap, wondering why this _wasn’t helping_. He ran his thumbs over the fabric of the blanket.

“Just because I cried all over you like a pathetic mess doesn’t mean all our shit is just resolved,” he mumbled, not even knowing why he said it. It was entirely unhelpful but Jason couldn’t stop himself.

Bruce let out a barely audible huff of breath and Jason looked up just enough to see a hint of frustration in his face before he spoke again.

“Yes, I know,” he said slowly. There was another long pause, and Bruce kept staring at his hands. He unclasped them and placed his palms flat against his thighs. “I didn’t want...I’ve been trying not to overwhelm you. I didn’t think you wanted to talk about...any of it.” He finished awkwardly, words quiet and half strangled. “But perhaps we should.”

Jason swallowed and shook his head when Bruce finally looked up, eyes searching.

“Jason-“

“I can’t Bruce. I can’t _talk about it,”_ the words came out in a rush, anger replaced with flighty panic and Bruce blinked back at him, obvious confusion in his eyes before he seemed to freeze, comprehension dawning.

Ah, he gets it now, thought Jason.

And then he just looked _lost_. Like he had no idea what to say or do or where to go from here and Jason, despite everything that happened so far, felt sort of bad. For being so difficult, so impossible. He looked back down, gripping the blanket in his hands and trying not to cry like an angry little kid.

He forced himself not to apologize. Because he _shouldn’t_. But he still felt guilty when he glanced up through his bangs and Bruce looked _sad_ of all things.

And then he just felt tired. And he- he didn’t _want_ to fight anyway. Jason didn’t want to wreck what they had now by bringing up shit that happened nearly a year ago. He was frustrated nearly to tears because he should just be able to get over it. Move on like everybody else seemed to be able to.

Jason slumped back on the bed and covered his face with his hands, not able to look at Bruce, still sitting there on his bed. Then he felt a hand wrap carefully around his ankle through the blanket and squeeze softly.

“I’m sorry this is happening,” Bruce said, voice hushed. “We’ll find a solution.”

Jason’s breath hitched and he nodded, letting his hands fall to his sides.

He wanted to take comfort in Bruce. Wanted to lean on him like he did that night in the library. He thought though, even living here, he might have to keep his distance.

Bruce let go of his ankle, retreating back to his own space and Jason finally looked at him, only to find him staring at the floor. There was so much packed into the silence Jason wished, more than anything, that this all wasn’t so _hard_.

Then Bruce turned to him, and said in a clipped, emotionless voice, “I love you.”

Jason blinked, feeling the churning mess of everything in his stomach that he pushed down with a harsh swallow. “I know,” he said, voice barely more than a rasp.

Bruce nodded and turned his head back to the empty room, blinking at the wall and letting out a soft sigh. He reached over again and patted Jason’s knee, bent up under the blanket. “I’ll let you sleep.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 😬😬😬 I promise we’re heading toward an actual conversation 😂
> 
> I’m excited to get to this part and the chapters after this one. Hope you all enjoy and I love to hear your comments if you did ☺️
> 
> Song tite from Glass Animal’s new single It’s All So Incredibly Loud


	24. The string is unwinding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s the day of the big move, Jason’s maybe more anxious about it than is reasonable, and an important conversation is finally had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings in end notes!!
> 
> Aaaaah I’m sorry this is so late honestly. I like to stick to a strict writing schedule so unless I really struggle with a chapter I can usually get one written in a week, two at a stretch. But I was working on the snippet request for my 600 subscribers winner, (You can read it here —-> https://archiveofourown.org/works/25987213 )  
> and then I went camping for 9 days and turns out writing while camping is nearly impossible for me. 
> 
> So these 7.5k words were written all in the last 48 hours because I had a lot of writing juice saved up. 
> 
> Anyway I hope you enjoy. I have a feeling the next chapter will be out quickly, or at least on time (though I make no promises, as always)

The first thing Jason remembered was looking out the window of Bruce’s SUV.

They were on their way back to the manor, he just sort of knew, in the back of his mind. He looked in the rearview mirror and could see piles of his things in the backseat and piled high in the trunk.

They were moving his things from his apartment to the manor. Dick was supposed to be there though, Jason thought.

“He took his own car,” Bruce said from the driver’s seat, like he’d just materialized from thin air. “So we could fit more of your things.”

“Oh,” Jason nodded to himself, never questioning that he hadn’t asked out loud. He didn’t remember packing up either, but he clearly had by the mound of his things in the back of the car.

“There’s a stop I’d like to make on the way,” Bruce added again, staring out the windshield without looking over. Everything outside seemed blurry somehow, like he needed glasses, like the only real thing was the inside of this car.

Maybe that was why he didn’t realize where they were going.

It seemed like no time passed, but then it must have been hours, or was it even possible? Because when Bruce stopped the car they were in the desert.

Jason peered out at an opening in the ground, the entrance to a cave that he didn’t recognize, as Bruce slipped out of the car and walked forward to meet a blurry figure, coming into focus as they came up out of the cave.

Jason’s breath froze in his chest, the mildly confused but unbothered feeling he’d had dissolved in an instant. He fumbled out of the car, not moving from where he stood but staring at them both as they spoke, quiet enough he couldn’t hear them.

Why was she here? Where even were they? he suddenly wondered, heart rate picking up speed as his head whipped around, trying to find some familiar landmark, something.

Because it did feel familiar, but he couldn’t pinpoint why. Something vague and uncomfortable squirmed in his gut when he peered at the entrance of the cave.

He didn’t know where they were but he did know he didn’t want to be here.

Jason turned away from them, walking toward the back of the car, not knowing where he was going but intent on getting out of there. He could follow the road back, he thought.

But it was far, wasn’t it? Hadn’t it been a long drive?

It didn’t matter though, because as soon as he rounded the end of the SUV and saw the endless road stretching back behind it, Talia and Bruce were both there.

Jason stopped, somehow unsurprised though his throat felt tight like he couldn’t speak.

“Jason,” Talia spoke his name firmly, in a way he didn’t remember, not like when she’d been his instructor. But he couldn’t say anything back, his tongue wouldn’t move.

Bruce stepped forward, past her, and gripped his upper arm. Not tight, but firmly enough to pull him back around and begin guiding him toward the cave.

“He’s regressed,” he heard Bruce say, speaking to Talia as if he wasn’t there.

“I see that,” she responded, placing a hand on the back of his neck as she walked up on his other side.

Everything looked blurry again. He knew it wasn’t. But something made it hazy, dulled everything until it was barely there and the sense of foreboding didn’t leave him but he couldn’t pull away. Bruce’s grip on his arm felt like steel, Talia’s hand on the back of his neck like a shackle, weighing him down until it was all there was.

He wanted to speak, to protest as they entered, as the light from the sun grew dim behind them as they went further and further into the cave. But it was like...it was like he was watching from a distance, like watching a puppet stumble down a stone path, held up by the hands of his two guides.

The temperature dropped as they walked, until he was shivering, but neither Bruce nor Talia seemed to notice.

“You really think this will work?” Bruce asked, voice deadly serious, and Jason turned to look at him, confused but still unable to just _open his mouth_. His anxiety was spiking. Something about the blurred edges of this place made him want to be sick.

“Yes,” Talia said back with confidence, just as Jason finally, blessedly was able to send the signal to his legs to _stop_. He dug his heels in, drawing them both up short.

He could see a hint of color reflecting off the cave walls around a curve in the path as Bruce turned on a flashlight.

It was green.

“Jason,” Bruce pulled on his arm and he stumbled. His breathing picked up, panic pushing up through his chest so strong he let out an involuntary noise of fear, but no words. He still couldn’t - they wouldn’t come, when he tried to form them it was like he couldn’t remember how.

“Do not worry,” Talia soothed, though if she was talking to Jason or Bruce he couldn’t tell. “It’s likely he remembers this place.”

Jason’s eyes darted to her, as he was dragged forward, toward the curve in the path.

And then it clicked, when he saw her. Her face the only clear thing in the cave, green light splashed across her skin.

It was familiar because he’d been here before. A long time ago.

A time when everything was blurred and unclear, jumbled together and missing in patches.

But he remembered this place.

His breathing was loud, panic heavy in every breath.

“You’re sure about this?” Bruce asked, struggling to keep him from falling down with how hard he pulled back in his hold.

“It worked well enough the first time.”

Bruce grunted and dragged him forward with more force, grip tight enough to hurt now. “With unintended consequences,” he added, voice strained and Talia hummed.

Jason flinched when her hand brushed his sweaty hair out of his eyes. “He will understand.”

But he didn’t. Jason didn’t understand and he didn’t want to be here and how could Bruce do this? After everything? How could _Talia_?

There was one more solid yank and Jason was around the bend, his shoulder aching from the strength of the pull and - there it was, bubbling and green.

He could never forget the color. That exact shade of chartreuse that glowed, emitting light in a way that made it feel like a living thing. It was what everyone recognized the pits for.

It was the smell of sulfur and death that somehow felt unfamiliar and expected at the same time. It burned his nose and Jason put one last ditch effort into fleeing, trying to wrench his arm from Bruce’s grip.

No matter how hard he tried though it was like there was no effect. Like it was easy for Bruce to pull him in front of him and _push_.

Jason fumbled his steps, tripping over his own feet. Somehow the Pit was closer than it had been, right underneath him, he only had a moment to take a gasping breath, before he was submerged.

The last thing he remembered was Bruce, standing there, tall and silent, staring with a blank face as he floundered, and gasped, drowning in fire and terror and _rage_.

There was the sensation of falling, and then pain.

Something sharp and hard knocked into his forehead with enough force to jar him back to awareness. His limbs were trapped, tangled up in something and he nearly screamed, the darkness and the hit to head did not help the tight clenched feeling in his chest. He felt like he couldn’t breathe.

It took him longer than it had before to realize it wasn’t real, to come back to himself enough to remember where he was.

He gasped like a fish on dry land, noting in the back of his mind that he was beginning to hyperventilate again. He barely had enough self control to count in his head to even his breathing. The blankets were twisted up in his legs and one arm and he was laying on the floor, next to the bed. He must have hit his head on the nightstand when he fell, thrashing in an imaginary pit.

He felt sick. So much so that he heaved himself to a seated position and shoved his head between his bent knees, still trapped in the blanket, and tried to swallow his nasuea and the flashes of green behind his eyelids.

That was - that was completely fucked up. Jason felt like he would shake out of his skin and even as he worked to untangle himself from the quilt he didn’t want to let go of its warmth. He was freezing.

He coughed, clamping a hand over his mouth to cover a harsh gag before he finally managed to tear the blanket away from his feet and stumble to the bathroom. His eyes burned and stung when he flicked the light on, barely able to keep them open as he fell painfully to his knees in front of the toilet. He heaved but nothing came up, and again, feeling his stomach clench painfully around emptiness, having nothing to bring up, just choking on his own spit as tears welled and spilled and snot ran down his chin until he was gasping. He leaned his forehead against the toilet seat with a groan.

His head throbbed with his heart beat where he’d hit it and he felt his breath hitch before he clamped down on it. Muffling a moan as he reached for the toilet paper, just to blow his nose and clean up his face.

Sitting there in his boxers and a t-shirt, the tile floors ice cold against his bare shins, he shivered, hard enough to make his teeth chatter and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to grind out the images in his head.

He hadn’t remembered. Not like that.

There were a lot of things Jason couldn’t remember about his time with the League. Just about everything before he went in the Pit was hazy enough to have been nothing but a dream. When he tried to think back on it now, which he didn’t do often, he could never figure out if what he thought he remembered was even real or if his mind had just conjured it up in the absence of any real thought.

But that - that felt real - he remembered that place, that opening in the ground where the sun was bright but the air was cold and the wind blew hard enough to sting.

He didn’t want to remember that. He didn’t want to think of Bruce there.

He didn’t blame Talia for it. Not really, not when she’d been afraid Ra’s would just get rid of him quietly if she didn’t do something fast. And he was selfishly grateful that he had his life again, that he could _think_ , could make decisions for himself now.

The thought of being some walking, empty shell always made him want to puke. He was glad he could fight, back then, even if so many other instincts died with him. But it would have only been a matter of time before Jason lost a fight.

Talia protected him.

But she wouldn’t do that to him again, not after the first time, after everything that happened. And Bruce...Bruce would never...

He didn’t know what was wrong with his _brain_. Why it kept conjuring up this bullshit that just made him want to crawl out of his skin and disappear out of the game for good.

Other than that Jason never thought Bruce would take him back to Ethiopia either. To where he died. Was where he was pseudo resurrected any worse?

He shook his head, hard, as if he could physically fling the thoughts away.

There would be no point to something like that so it was a bullshit thing to even think about.

Slowly, with a shaking hand he reached up and flushed the toilet. There was nothing but spit and snot in the bowl but it felt gross to leave it like that. And then he sat back on the tile floor, scooting himself across it until he could lean up against the wall for support. He let his head loll back and stared at the ceiling.

Anxiety boiled in his stomach.

They were supposed to go get his things _today_. Officially move him back into the manor, however temporary they all wanted Jason to think it was he couldn’t imagine it being a short stay. Not with something this messy, and complicated, and dangerous.

Moving into the manor would mean it was no longer easy to leave. It would be for real, he wouldn’t just be able to vanish back to his apartment. And now the idea gave him the kind of gut churning anxiety that he could barely think around.

But there was no other option, Jason knew. No other safe place that was any better than _this_.

*

He didn’t go back to sleep.

It was around 4am, he discovered after he’d managed a shower and wandered back into the room. Instead, he read for a while, and when that got boring he snuck down to the kitchen. Making sure Alfred wasn’t around, he bundled himself up and went outside, taking a walk around the grounds in the dark. It was before the sun was even up and he watched his breath cloud in the air by nothing but moonlight.

He wasn’t sure it was a good plan, as he looked at the dark shapes of the trees and the silhouette of the manor. It didn’t make him feel better.

It certainly didn’t help how cold he’d been and with damp hair, by the time he came back in he was shaking.

Alfred found him then, getting an early start on the laundry and leaning into the mudroom to see Jason taking off the coat he’d stolen with his teeth chattering noisily. He’d wound up with hot coffee in his hands, which meant Alfred thought he looked like shit and needed the boost but Jason wasn’t complaining.

He didn’t ask him why he was up, or what he thought he was doing like Jason might have expected, he just busied himself with finishing the laundry and making sure things were ready for breakfast before, “his brothers,” came over that morning.

Jason made his way back to the den eventually, eyeing the mess of video game controllers that someone left out - namely Damian. He started to clean them up and then paused and started up Animal Crossing instead. It seemed suitably pleasant and mind numbing enough to help him ignore the ever present nausea since he woke up.

Sooner than he expected he saw Damian’s shadow whiff past the doorway, followed by the soft pads of Titus’ feet after him. He swallowed roughly at the little flip in his stomach, because he knew Bruce would be following soon. Jason bounced his foot on the floor, controller held limply between his knees. He didn’t particularly want to get caught in an empty room with Bruce right now and especially not right before this.

He set the controller down on the coffee table and rolled his shoulders before heaving himself to his feet and brushing his hands down his front, smoothing out wrinkles that weren’t there. This was just another day. Having his things in the house didn’t mean he didn’t have other safe houses.

Except he didn’t _want_ to go back to living in safe houses. He drew a hand through his hair, tugging at his roots and thinking, idly, it was getting a little long. He was probably due for a cut.

Alfred used to cut it, when he was a kid, wary of strangers and especially anybody trying to give him a _lollipop_. He wondered if it would be weird to ask now. He almost startled when he stepped out of the doorway, as a black and white cat appeared out of nowhere, just sitting in the hall, as if it were waiting for him.

“Oh,” Jason said, kneeling down when it arched its back and rubbed against his ankles. “Hey little guy. Still like me, huh? That’s good.” He scratched between his ears and under his chin, quarking a smile as he started purring and closed his eyes, chin tilted up to give him a better angle.

And then of course, Bruce was there.

Jason didn’t notice him until his socked feet appeared in his peripheral vision and he stiffened, glancing up to find him looking down at them with that stupid, unreadable face.

“Good morning,” he said, voice still gruff from sleep.

“Morning,” Jason grunted back, turning his focus back to Alfred, running a hand down his back. He felt the nausea bubble up like a science experiment in his stomach.

He’d had that same face, in the dream.

There was an extended silence, Jason ignoring Bruce for all intents and purposes and getting more and more tense the longer he stood there. Before it could get worse, or Bruce could decide to get over whatever blockage he had and say something Jason likely didn’t want to hear, he stood back up and kept walking.

He glanced down in surprise as he reached the stairs, the cat still following him, trotting beside him like he had an invitation or something. It was distraction enough that Jason didn’t immediately notice everyone in the dining room until they abruptly fell silent.

It was Alfred clearing his throat actually, that did it, because immediately when Jason entered the room there was a little, ‘ahem’ and then the quiet conversation Jason hadn’t quite registered abruptly cut off. He looked up to find Dick, Tim, and Damian all standing next to the table, staring at him.

“What?” He snapped, already on edge.

“Nothing,” Dick smiled shoving the other two away from him and waving a hand at the table, gesturing for them to sit somewhere. “We were just discussing logistics. I think we can make it work if we all go in Bruce’s biggest car. Damian’s doing something with Alfred and Cass has a dance class so it’s just the four of us anyway.”

Jason watched with suspicion as Tim and Damian both took their usual seats at the table. They’d been talking about him, or Alfred wouldn’t have warned them when he entered the room and on top of the dream and his blow up at Bruce the day before he just wanted to turn around and go back to his room, except that Bruce was back that direction.

Thankfully, Dick didn’t try to hug him, just took his own seat.

“It is not as if it will take an army to pack up Todd’s _modest_ apartment.”

Jason bristled, and had to consciously tell himself to cool it before he snapped at the kid for trying to make a harmless joke at his expense. He was staring at the cat that now wound its way between the table legs once Jason stopped walking, coming to stand next to Damian until he pulled his chair out enough that he jumped up in his lap.

He hesitated for only a moment, until Titus came to greet him with a lick to one hand and he heard Bruce walking up from behind. Quickly, he chose the seat furthest from the head of the table, and then Alfred brought out breakfast.

Jason tried, with the food, but his first bite of toast was enough to sour in his stomach instantly. He pushed eggs around his plate, managed to choke down a few blueberries, and drank another full cup of coffee that sat hot and churning in his stomach before he switched to water. There was conversation happening at the table but Jason didn’t catch any of it, too absorbed with controlling his breathing and swallowing against every surge of nausea.

Of course, he didn’t miss Bruce looking at him every fifteen seconds, and he was sure neither did Dick or Tim.

At some point Dick leaned over and snagged his toast and a piece of cantelope without comment. Jason felt bizarrely grateful for it, even as he felt his ears going pink. It wasn’t like any of them could miss that he wasn’t eating but it made him feel slightly less terrible to dump a single egg and a few pieces of fruit in the trash than his entire breakfast.

And they really didn’t waist any time after that. Dick and Tim had brought over boxes that Jason sluggishly helped transfer from their cars to Bruce’s, all while avoiding eye contact with everyone. He could _feel_ Dick and Tim making faces at each other every time he turned his back.

There was a brief, mumbledexchange between them, though Jason couldn’t make out the words.

Tim shifted his feet in the gravel, stepping away from the SUV and glancing at Jason lightning fast, like he wouldn’t notice. “I’m gonna hit the bathroom before we leave, be right back.”

And then Tim was gone, leaving the two of them there alone. Jason heaved a breath before Dick even looked at him.

“Jay...” he started, hesitating for a moment, eyes focused on the inside of the car.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Jason said back, before he could finish. He focused on arranging the flattened boxes just right, ignoring when Dick looked up at him.

He took a deep breath at that, and let it out slowly, puffing his cheeks out as he stared at the manor from the driveway. “Ok,” he said softly, swallowing and giving Jason a nervous look. “But...is everything ok? You seem...tense.”

He snorted, consciously letting his shoulders fall. He couldn’t give an honest answer but lying to Dick now made him feel even worse, so he shrugged. “I’m not thrilled about...this,” he gestured to the car, and the boxes, and the manor, swallowing with a dry throat. “It just...feels weird.”

 _Weird_ was one way to put it.

Dick frowned, eyebrows drawing low as he stared at the moving supplies, a roll of packing tape in one hand.

“I’ll be around,” he said, finally looking back up at Jason, “and so will Tim. If you want us. It’s not forever Jay.”

There was a hint of pleading in his voice that had Jason clamping his jaw shut before he said anything else. Dick looked better, more well rested since he’d left the manor and Jason wasn’t gonna drag him back here when nothing had even really happened yet.

 _Yet_. Jesus.

There was crunching in the gravel behind him and Jason tensed as Dick took a step out from behind the car. Bruce and Tim stood there when he finally turned around. Bruce looking stonyfaced as usual and Tim with a nervous expression, chewing on his lip and standing to his left and a step behind.

Bruce eyed the back of the car, the third row of seats had been folded down, giving them plenty of room. And considering Jason wasn’t moving any furniture or appliances, it would probably be plenty of space for his books and clothes and random other crap he’d aquired over time.

“All ready?” Bruce asked, hands shifting into his pockets, a tiny crease between his eyebrows.

Jason grunted, no real words coming out as he walked to the other side of the car and slipped into the back seat. He closed his eyes and scrubbed a hand over his face while he overheard hushed conversation happening outside just before the hatch was closed and Tim slipped into the other side of the back and Dick and Bruce got in up front.

Dick tried to fill the uncomfortable silence, to his credit, but Jason’s jaw felt wired shut and Bruce wasn’t much better, offering nothing but hums and grunts in return. Jason could see his hands gripping the steering wheel like he might just tear it off.

Tim finally cleared his throat the third time Dick’s attempt at conversation fell flat and helped him out. The exchange came naturally enough that Jason could finally zone out and just stare out the window.

His phone buzzed in his pocket a minute later and Jason looked down in confusion, wondering who would be messaging him right now. 90% of the people he texted were _there_.

He shifted so he could slip it out of his pocket though and unlocked the screen.

_Tim:_

_if you’re not ready to do this you don’t have to. I can even make an excuse to turn around if you tell me to_ 👀

Jason blinked at it for a moment, and then stuffed it back in his pocket without replying or even looking at Tim, who’s gaze he could feel burning into the back of his head. His palms were sweating and he let his forehead rest against the glass, reaching into his sweatshirt pocket and fiddling with the fidget toy he’d brought along on a whim, ignoring the tightness in his throat. He knew he was being dramatic.

Nervous because of his fucking nightmares. Like they somehow represented reality. He was a prophet now, apparently.

He mouthed the poem to himself as they got on the freeway, glaring into the bright sun reflecting on the glass, feeling the heat through the window on his face, flicking the light switch toggle back and forth between his index and middle fingers.

Bruce gave those to him, the poem and the toy.

He swallowed. He couldn’t think about it.

*

When they pulled up to his apartment Jason stared up at the building with tired eyes and and wavering nerves. He had a weird feeling. He didn’t remember at all what kind of state it was in when they left it, though he couldn’t imagine it had been good all things considered.

The walk up the stairs felt longer than normal, and his feet felt heavy and loud.

Jason hesitated at the top of the stairs, realizing belatedly that he didn’t have a key.

“Shit.” Any one of them could pick the lock, but it would take a little while and-

And Bruce stepped forward, almost self consciously, and pulled a key out of his pocket, holding it out to him.

“I...had the lock replaced. It was broken. After...”

After they busted into his apartment to rescue his dying ass. Right.

Jason took the key with numb fingers and nodded, not acknowledging the dip in his stomach as he inserted the it in the lock. 

What he found when the door swung open wasn’t anything horrifying, just his entire hoard of cleaning supplies sitting on the kitchen counter and a light scent of bleach. Jason didn’t ask, because he didn’t feel like talking and he wasn’t sure he even wanted to know.

It felt like it had been a century since he was last there, but it was only a week. One of the longest weeks of his life.

He looked around the place as Dick and Tim started unfolding boxes and wondered how long it would be before he came back. How long before there was a fix. The thought made him jittery.

He didn’t know where to start, standing in the middle of his own living room. It occurred to him that he should probably take charge, start directing everybody where to start, what to bring and what to leave behind. But he didn’t know, he barely cared at the moment.

They were all being real quiet, stepping around him and awkwardly eyeing his things like they weren’t sure if they were allowed to touch it or not. Bruce hovered in the hallway and Jason regretted not just doing this by himself. At least then he wouldn’t feel so damn self conscious.

Dick made eye contact with Tim over an empty box after taping up the bottom and Jason pretended not to see.

“I think we can use our best judgement on what to pack,” Dick said, as if reading Jason’s mind. “Why don’t you pick what you want from you bedroom, and Tim can work on the bathroom. I’ll figure out the living room and guest room and Bruce can box up your clothes.“

Jason didn’t know how purposeful the little assignment actually was, considering it would be something easy, that wouldn’t require any questions from Bruce. But that it also left them in the same room together.

It didn’t matter, he decided, strung too tight to argue or even say anything really. Instead, he just went into his room with a couple empty boxes and immediately went to his book shelves. Bruce came in quietly after him, standing in the doorway for a second. Jason could feel himself getting tense, waiting for him to say something, but he didn’t.

He just went to the closet and opened it, carefully beginning to remove things from shelves and folding them on the bed.

Jason consciously turned his back, concentrating on his books and ignoring the little noises he could hear from the living room and from scraping hangers in the closet behind him. He found himself lost in titles relatively quickly. Before he realized it, instead of just pulling stacks and boxing them, he was flipping through their pages, reading snippets and remembering when he first read them.

Most of them had been suggestions from Bruce. Some of them they’d read together when he was a kid and it ached in this strange, intangible way when he held them. He was right on the other side of the room but it felt like it might as well be a thousand miles away.

Jason was so tired, and so bitterly angry about the past and things no one could change; and while he was flipping through an old copy of _The Giver_ he heard a shift behind him and then Bruce’s voice, “Jason.”

It was soft, almost like he didn’t realize he was speaking out loud and it pulled him out of his thoughts, tensing his shoulders all over again. He turned around and found Bruce sitting on the end of his bed holding something in his hands.

It was a book, Jason realized, and a crumpled up card and wrinkled piece of notebook paper.

He felt his mouth go dry as his pulse shot into his throat, eyes darting to the bottom drawer of his dresser, now partway open. Bruce looked up, an indecipherable expression on his face. Jason felt frozen to the floor, sitting on his knees on the carpet with a stack of books around him trying to think of some throw away reason that it was there.

 _Fuck_ , how had he forgotten about it? He should have put it somewhere else, or insisted on going through the dresser himself. _Something_.

“Where did you get this?” Bruce asked, his voice hushed.

“I don’t-...” Jason swallowed, his anxiety skyrocketing until he couldn’t finish, his throat closing up like it was stuffed with cotton. Bruce looked back down at the book. He smoothed a hand over the card and his lips thinned to almost nothing.

Then he got up from the bed and closed the bedroom door and it just made Jason’s anxiety _worse_. He scoffed, “what are you doing, Bruce?”

But he didn’t respond, just shuffled back to the bed, book and papers still clutched in his hand as he sat back down. And then he looked at Jason with the same deadly serious expression he’d had the day before when he came to apologize about contacting Talia and he said, “I know there are specific things, that I’ve done in the past that hurt you.”

Jason blinked, entirely taken off guard, trying to somehow backtrack, interrupting him before this could go any further, “Bruce-“

But it didn’t matter, because he kept going anyway, “I think we should talk about them.”

His breathing was speeding up as he glanced down at the card, wondering for the thousandth time what the story actually was, but he shook the thought away. “I can’t Bruce,” He grit out, voice strained. “I told you, I-“

“You’re afraid the discussion itself will be upsetting enough to trigger a Pit episode,” he said very plainly, the same monotone voice he had when talking about stocks.

Jason grit his teeth and Bruce shifted his posture, leaning forward with this suddenly intense expression, almost pleading. “I don’t want that to happen either. But if we don’t talk about what happened in Ethi-“

“ _Bruce_.” Jason scrambled up from the floor, feeling his pulse pounding in his ears, a rush of everything that had been dragging him down for _months_.

“Dick and Tim are right outside this room,” Bruce said, gesturing to the door. “If you need to pause or take a break, we can. I don’t want-“ He seemed to falter, surprised by the crack in his voice before he cleared his throat. “I don’t want you to feel like you can’t be upset Jay. I want to work things out, and I think you do too.” He paused then but Jason remained silent and strung tight, standing with stiff shoulders and empty, grasping hands.

Bruce swallowed. “We can’t do that if we don’t talk about...why you’re upset.”

“Cause it’s just one thing,” Jason snapped, immediately biting his tongue and berating himself for engaging at all.

Bruce’s eyebrows drew together, concern or frustration, Jason couldn’t tell.

“I know - it’s not,” he said, clutching the book tighter, the paper crinkling audibly in the quiet room. “But I think we both know why things fell apart last time.”

 _“Why things fell apart?”_ The words were almost a shout, “you say it like it was some act of God, they just _fell apart_. Like it just _happened_ , who can say why?” The words were heavy with sarcasm as Jason gave an exaggerated shrug.

“No - _no_ , Jason that’s not what I meant-“

“Then what?!” He threw his arms out to the sides, feeling his breath com like fire from his lungs, “you wanna talk then _talk_! What could you possibly have to say?”

Bruce stared at him, jaw working silently. He swallowed roughly and slowly rose to his feet, nostrils flaring wide. His eyes flit over Jason’s face like he was afraid it would be the last time he saw him.

He tried to brace himself.

“That I’m sorry,” Bruce said, voice barely above a whisper.

 _“Are you?”_ Jason tried to snap back, but his voice was shaking too much.

 _“Yes.”_ Bruce turned his palms out in a pleading gesture and Jason took a step back, shaking his head.

“Your therapist tell you to say that?” He rallied, clenching his fists against the fire pumping through his veins. He shouldn’t be doing this. He knew it was a bad idea but he didn’t know how to touch this without lashing out. Jason didn’t _want_ to fight, but god he was good at it.

Bruce looked surprised for half a second and then vaguely uncomfortable and Jason scoffed, dragging his hands through his hair.

“It took a professional to help you figure that one out huh?”

“No,” he said quickly, “I’ve...wanted to tell you for a long time I just never-“

He cut off, hands opening and closing. Suddenly he turned back to the bed, bending down to retrieve the book and card and turning back to Jason, staring at them in his hands with this blank eyed look. If Jason were being generous he’d acknowledge that it probably meant he was overwhelmed but in that moment is just made him more angry. He had to press down on the Pit hard.

“I bought you this - after,” he held the book gently, cradled in his hands with the card smoothed over the cover.

“Oh, because a book and a movie would fix it, for sure,” Jason snarled and then had to suck in a deep breath and recite that stupid poem under his breath and turn away for a moment. He was shaking.

Of course it was some bullshit like that. Of course it was.

“I knew it wouldn’t,” Bruce said very quietly from behind him.

Jason didn’t say anything at first, just taking deep breaths through his nose until he finally trusted himself to turn back around.

“Then why fucking buy it?”

He looked at him for a long time, before his eyes fell back to the book. “I knew...I knew I had hurt you.”

Jason scoffed, but didn’t speak, sticking a hand in his sweatshirt pocket and grabbing the fidget toy and just gripping it in a fist, feeling the edges dig into his palm.

Bruce continued to stare down at the card, smoothing a hand over the crinkled paper, his eyebrows drawing low. “I regretted it, very much.”

“Why? Because it didn’t work out how you wanted?” Jason barely held back a growl. His voice coming out choked and grating. He tried to take measured breaths, counting on the inhale and exhale. His heart was beating so hard.

“No,” Bruce said very quietly, eyes pained. He took a deep breath, glancing around the room like he was preparing for something and released it very slowly. And then, in a halting, robotic tone he continued, “I knew I had done something I couldn’t take back.” His voice was low and quiet and it sounded - it sounded...

“I don’t want some bullshit rehearsed apology you probably read in a fucking _book_ Bruce.” His voice cracked loudly and he swallowed against it, feeling his face flush at the obvious tell. But he stood straight, unyielding.

Bruce blinked, eyes drawing across the wall until he was finally looking at Jason. His face contorted for just a flash of a second, eyes hurt and upset like Jason had never really seen before.

“Jason,” he said, voice almost incredulous, “of course it’s rehearsed. You think I haven’t practiced this conversation for months? I know-“ He stopped, grinding his teeth together before he ran a hand through his hair, the other still clenched around the book.

“I know I am bad with words. That I say the wrong thing more often than not and I didn’t want-“ he swallowed suddenly, like he couldn’t help it, blinking rapidly for a moment, voice thick when he continued. “It is important to me, that I don’t screw this up.”

Jason wanted to be angry about it, but as much as he hated it - he could picture him trying to find the right words; saying them to himself, over and over again in case he got the opportunity, so he wouldn’t botch it if the conversation surprised him. He took a shuddering breath, blinking back tears and swallowed against the butterflies in his stomach. He didn’t say anything, because - because he wanted to hear this. He needed to, it...if he was honest with himself it terrified him but he - he wanted to _know_.

Bruce watched him, eyes bright and searching before he continued, “It was an awful thing to have done Jay. I used you, for my own gain, in a way that would surely hurt you, and then I-“ he took another deep breath.

“Then I became angry and violent when you were upset with me. As if you should have understood. I was consumed by what I had lost and I lost sight of everything else. Of all that I still had. Of _you_.” He swallowed, and Jason could see his throat working, adam’s apple bobbing rapidly.

“I bought the gift,” he said a moment later, voice barely above a rasp, “because I wanted to pretend like I hadn’t ruined everything.

“I wrote the card and then I - I felt like such an idiot. Because I knew I couldn’t - that there was nothing I could say, to make it ok again.”

“You don’t know what that did to me.” The words surprised him. They didn’t even sound like him, spoken in a small, wet voice; a tiny thing crawling out from out under an old hurt. “I was trying to _help_ you, and then you-“ It strained his throat and his chest felt tight and split open at the same time. He looked at Bruce, who stared back at him with wide, wet eyes.

“I-“ he started, but he didn’t finish. His voice broke and he sucked in a harsh breath, hand coming up to brush away a tear Jason hadn’t even seen spill over. “I won’t ask you to forgive me,” he finally forced out. “But I am sorry.”

Jason let out a blistering sigh and slumped back against the wall behind him. It felt like his bones had vanished, like the only thing holding him up was sheer force of will.

“Just - why did you save it? If you thought it was hopeless why keep it?” He could hear how tired he sounded in his own voice, exhaustion heavy in every word.

“Because I...Because I’m selfish,” the last word almost sounded like a laugh. “Because I love you and I couldn’t - I couldn’t stand the thought of just giving up.” He tensed for a moment, looking down at the book and briefly reaching back to set it on the bed before he stood tall again and looked at Jason with the sort of determination he was familiar with.

“I promised you, the other night, that if you gave me another chance, I wouldn’t screw it up, Jay. And I won’t. I’m sure that I will make mistakes, I’m not - good at-“ he was plainly at a loss for a moment, before he shook his head and barreled on, “there are so many things I’m not good at. But I will _never_ make you feel like that again Jay.

“I will never let you think that you are less important to me than anyone else.”

He took a hesitant step toward him, eyes darting over Jason’s face in clear concern, hands fluttering like he didn’t know what to do with them. It wasn’t until he took another step that Jason realized he was crying. Lip trembling and all, he took a shuddering breath and swiped a hand over his eyes, holding it there for a moment, trying to gain back his composure somehow. But it hurt, in a weird way, something he couldn’t explain or understand it just _did_.

Like Bruce had cut right into the part of him that ached the most.

When he dropped his hand Bruce was there, right in front of him and reaching out, hands brushing his arms with hesitation like he was waiting for Jason to reject the move and when he didn’t - they slipped behind his shoulders and _pulled_. Tugging him forward until he was folded in Bruce’s arms, face tucked against his shoulder.

“I want to forgive you,” he said, voice thick with tears, “I just-“

“You don’t have to,” Bruce interrupted him, arms squeezing tight, voice almost desperate. “Jason you don’t. You can give it time.”

He was rubbing his back, one hand drawing up and down while the other held him firmly against his chest. He sounded nearly as choked as Jason felt and he said, “this doesn’t have to be all or nothing,” voice reverberating in his chest and right through Jason’s. “If we try this, and you just think it’s not working, we can figure something else out.

“And if there’s...if you are upset about something, and you don’t think you can talk to me about it safely, tell one of the other kids, or Alfred, and they can let me know. Or you can - you can write it down if you don’t want to tell one of them.”

Bruce pulled back then, just a little, enough to drop his arms from around his shoulders and place his hands on either side of Jason’s head, thumbs brushing over his ears, staring right into his eyes. He looked so damn _earnest_.

Jason thought about him leaving his room the night before, about him brainstorming ways around this problem so that he didn’t have to just sit in his anger and upset.

He nodded his head. “Ok,” he whispered.

Jason didn’t know entirely how he felt. Too many things drug up and bleeding. But, something inside of him felt soothed, like water on a parched throat.

He didn’t realize how badly he’d needed to hear it until now.

Bruce tugged at the back of his head, pulling it down just enough to press a kiss to his hairline and smooth his hands through his hair, looking at Jason like he was something precious. Like he couldn’t believe he was sill there. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Jason sniffed, loudly, and wiped at his nose with his wrist and Bruce moved his hands down and rubbed at his shoulders and then just held there for a second, eyes darting around the room at the half packed clothes and the books all over the floor

“We should keep packing,” Jason said, voice rough. “Dick and Tim are probably almost done.”

Bruce nodded, but he didn’t let go until Jason pulled away, finally letting his arms drop and looking a little lost for it.

Jason moved to the books he’d left scattered on the floor, body sluggish, like it wasn’t sure what he was doing as he knelt down, moving on autopilot.

After a moment he heard Bruce behind him and he glanced up in time to see him shift into the space next to him. Kneeling down on his left, he Settled a hand on his back, feather light, and picked up a book with his other, setting it in the box with careful movements.

Jason watched, letting himself breathe a little deeper, to hold on to the ache in his chest that echoed _this is real, all of this is real_ , with every beat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: Relatively traumatizing nightmare, though there is no extreme violence or frightening imagery. 
> 
> There is some dry heaving, but no actual puke. 
> 
> ______
> 
> So this conversation finally happened. I hope it lived up to expectations! I’ve been waiting to bring Bruce’s original gift/scribbled out card back up for MONTHS. 
> 
> I want to say we are nearing the end of this fic....but it’s me. There’s probably still a good five chapters left, by my estimation, but we’ll see. As always I hope you enjoyed!!! If you did, drop me a comment if you’re up to it ☺️
> 
> Chapter title from Ritual by Other Lives


	25. Says it’s gonna heal it, but you won’t make the call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason has another conversation with Dick, he sleeps, a _lot_ , and then he makes a decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings this chapter!
> 
> I feel like the beginning chunk of this chapter probably should have been part of the last chapter......but alas 🤷♀️.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

His clothes were all in bags or boxes. They were down to the last of his books, stacking them Tetris style to fit as many as possible in each box. Jason was going slow, and settling around the idea that nothing had fallen apart somehow.

Twice even.

Bruce was doing a last sweep of his dresser drawers, making sure they didn’t miss anything important, especially out of the last one, full of random things he didn’t have any other place for. His floor and bed were both covered in boxes, but turned out he was still missing a single book.

 _Pride and Prejudice_ , his second copy, now, still sat on the end of his bed, the wrinkled card and his own half crumpled sheet of notebook paper on top. Jason got up from the floor and picked all the pieces up, weighing them in his hands for a moment.

It wasn’t a great memory maybe, but Jason didn’t want to forget it either.

There were a lot of things Bruce and Jason had tried in the past, to “move on” but none of them worked. Not really. Forgetting anything had ever happened didn’t work.

So, he tucked the card and the notebook paper inside the front cover and set them in the top of the nearest open box.

His bottom drawer shut with a soft sound and when Jason looked up Bruce was staring at him. Jason tried not to squirm, feeling his face warm. “I want my cigarettes too,” he blurted, making Bruce blink.

“They’re under the bed, on your side.” He gestured toward him and Bruce let out a huff of breath, half amused, and dutifully knelt next to the bed and felt around until he pulled out a half empty carton that he tucked in the top of the box with most of his miscellaneous junk.

Jason gave a short nod and then had Bruce move the boxes on his bed around so he could pull off the blanket Alfred knitted for him and fold it up, along with his favorite pillow.

Then he shuffled around the bed, to his nightstand. He glanced at Bruce, who had busied himself straightening the blanket and pillow, stacking things to be easier to pick up and carry out when the time came. In the drawer of his nightstand there was still a photo he hadn’t thought about in a while, the one of him and Bruce at the baseball game. He picked it up carefully, along with the one of him, Kori, and Roy off his dresser and carefully placed them both with the things he was taking with him.

And then...then he looked around and, well, he was pretty sure he was done,

Half his life boxed up in a couple hours and one emotionally charged conversation. There was a short, alarming spike of anxiety that Jason took a quiet, shuddering breath through. He tried to swallow it down but then he looked at Bruce, standing there with his arms hanging at his sides and empty hands, watching him.

“What if I changed my mind,” Jason said, standing in the middle of all of the shit they’d just spent nearly two hours packing up.

Bruce shifted his weight from one foot to the other, fisted his hands and let them fall back open.

“Have you?” He asked, very quietly, face completely neutral.

 _“What if I have?”_ Jason pressed, not answering him, feeling sweat break out on the back of his neck. 

Bruce took a deep breath and paused, looking around at the room and all the boxes until his eyes found their way back to Jason and settled there. “Then I would help you unpack all of this, and tell the boys to do the same.”

Jason swallowed, staring into Bruce’s very serious eyes. “You’d do that? Even though I’m dangerous.”

He frowned just a little, his eyebrows tilting up in the center. “I trust you to make the decision. And if you think you’d do better on your own, then I would support you however you want me to.”

There was another pause, where Jason’s brain buzzed like a slow computer and Bruce took another measured breath. There was limited floor space, with the boxes stacked around, and they were standing on either side of Jason’s bed. It felt weirdly far, in that moment.

“I don’t want you to feel trapped in the manor Jay. If you did go back there, and...you need a break, I’m sure you could stay with Dick or Tim for a few days. Or you could come back here. Someone could stay with you, if you didn’t feel safe.

“And if you did decide you want to stay here, but you change your mind later, then we would come back and help you pack again.” He stared at him for a long moment, more open than Jason ever really remembered seeing him.

“It’s not all or nothing. It’s not forever. It doesn’t have to be.”

Jason took a deep, shaky breath and there was a blankness in his head. An empty sort of hollow feeling he knew was because all of this was just - _too much_ \- and he couldn’t process it all in one go. But there was a settled feeling in the base of his chest, the buzzing anxiety that had been plaguing him going quiet for the first time since he woke up in the manor.

“What do you want to do, Jay?”

His palms were still sweaty and his heart was beating hard but he jerked his head in a nod and swallowed against the now ever present lump in his throat.

“I want- I want to go. With you.”

“Ok,” Bruce said softly, “then we can go.” His hands still hung at his sides.

Jason shifted, feeling his skin prickle from the intensity of his expression. He moved toward the door, but Bruce matched him, until he had to step around a box to stand just a little too close. Before Jason could back up he lifted his arms around him, again, pulling him into a hug and holding him there.

He didn’t say anything, he barely seemed to be breathing but his grip was tight and Jason raised his arms to match before he even thought about it, closing his eyes against sudden dampness. A single deep shudder ran through his shoulders and Bruce briefly gripped the back of his neck, one soft squeeze before he dropped his arms and stepped back, narrowly avoiding the box behind him and clearing his throat awkwardly.

Jason sniffed, wiping at his eyes as subtly as he could, trying not to feel stupid. Bruce left a clear space in front of the door for him while he picked up the box that had been in his way and held it to his front, waiting.

Jason breathed deep, scrubbed a hand over his face, and opened the door.

*

He hadn’t particularly thought about what Dick and Tim were doing in the living room while Bruce and him were finishing up in his bedroom, but he wasn’t entirely surprised when their low, whispered conversation abruptly cut off when he stepped out of the room.

They were both standing in the kitchen, leaned against the counter tops and drinking coffee from the now full pot on the counter. They turned in tandem to stare at the both of them as Bruce trailed out behind him and there was a heavy, uncomfortable silence, both sets of eyes darting back and forth between them until Dick cleared his throat and said, “you guys want some coffee?”

And Jason, feeling incredibly drained and not wanting to think about the fact that they were just standing out here waiting for him and Bruce to finish getting their shit together, said “yes,” a little desperately, and beelined it for the coffee pot.

Tim got down a mug and pushed the bag of sugar with a spoon in it toward him. “Your milk is expired so...”

“It’s fine,” he said, pouring the coffee and dumping in two spoonfuls of sugar. He took a drink while it was still hot enough to scald him, sucking in a deep breath through his mouth after his first swallow.

“We cleaned out your fridge,” Dick offered when no one else said anything. Jason took another drink, feeling strangely out of place in his own apartment.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

“So...” Tim started, glancing around the apartment. “I think everything out here is packed up...if you guys are done in the bedroom...”

Jason looked around the space and found a neat stack of boxes by the front door, another behind his couch. Bruce set the one in his arms down gently on top of the nearest stack and walked up to the counter next to him, hands resting on the porcelain tiles.

“Yeah,” Jason said, hearing his voice as if someone else was talking, “we can uh, start loading up.”

Bruce nodded. “I’ll pull the car around near the stairwell. Tim, why don’t you come with me?”

Tim blinked, as if he wasn’t expecting the request, but nodded and set his mug down.

“We’ll be up in just a minute.” Bruce directed the words to Jason, who gave a short nod, holding his coffee close and watching them both quietly leave the apartment.

“So...” Dick said the moment the door closed behind them. When Jason turned to look at him his expression was the sort of pleasantly neutral that usually meant he was feeling more than he let on. “What’d you guys talk about in there?”

Jason didn’t say anything at first, just took another long drink of his coffee while he watched Dick fidget, running a hand up his opposite arm. “We heard some...yelling,” he continued, tone cautious.

“Yeah,” Jason said quietly, “that was me.”

Dick gave a barely audible laugh, a little incredulous. “I know...is everything ok?”

Jason stared down into his coffee and nodded slowly, feeling around the question in his mind. He was leaned up against the same counter as Dick and his brother slid himself along the edge until they bumped shoulders.

“You sure? You guys have been...pretty tense.”

“Yeah...” Jason glanced up, gauging the familiar blue eyes. “Would you...would you let me stay with you? If I ever...needed to.”

“Of course,” he replied immediately, eyebrows coming down low over his eyes, neutral expression finally dissolving into blatant concern. “Jay did something - you know you can tell me if Bruce is being a jerk. I can talk to him.”

“He’s not,” Jason assured, his shoulders sinking a little lower. “He’s not. I just...this is all....” he gestured to the living room, to the stack of boxes lined up behind his couch. Dick turned his head to look at it all, eyes darting around the rest of the space.

“It’s a lot,” he finished for Jason, understanding in his voice, before he turned back to him. “A back up plan helps. I get that. You can stay with me anytime. No questions asked. Long term, short term,” he shrugged, “I’d be happy to have you.”

Jason let that sink in slowly, a little more of the weight compressing his spine lifting off his shoulders and was hit, for the thousandth time, with the unexpected urge to cry. He felt the sting in the backs of his eyes and tried to blink it back, unable to hide the stupid sniffle that followed. Dick made a pained noise and reached around his shoulders with one arm, pulling him to his side.

“Sorry,” Jason said, wiping at his nose, “I don’t know why I keep doing this.” He sucked in a shaky breath and Dick scoffed, squeezing his shoulders tight.

“Jay please. There’s like, a huge amount of stuff happening for you right now. It’s ok to be all over the place or feel overwhelmed. Or to need to hear we’ve got your back more than once.”

Jason nodded, throat clogged and vision going blurry in a thick rush of feeling through his chest. “I feel like such an asshole,” he said in this stupid, watery voice. He set his half empty coffee mug on the counter and rubbed a hand over his face. He hadn’t said it, but it was a feeling that had been slowly creeping over him the last week.

“What? Why?” Dick’s eyebrows went all concerned again.

“Bacause I didn’t - because I didn’t trust any of you. And everybody’s been so fucking _nice_ , even _Bruce_ , and I’m-“ he cut off, sucking in a deep breath just before Dick let out a low puff of air and gripped him tighter, pulling him around until he could hug him for real, squeezing him around the ribs nearly tight enough to bruise.

Jason let him, let his head fall forward to rest on his shoulder. He was so exhausted all of a sudden, joints loose and limbs heavy.

“You’re breaking my heart right now Little Wing,” Dick mumbled, “it’s not your fault that this is hard. Don’t feel bad for that. I know I’m always spouting at you to trust us and that we love you but it’s not because I don’t understand why it’s hard. It’s not because I think there’s no reason for you to be upset about stuff or to be wary.”

Jason felt like he should be too tall, or too broad whenever Dick did this but it never felt that way.

“We’ve all got baggage, you know?” He pressed a hand to the back of Jason’s head, fingers threading through the hair at the nape of his neck. “Some of it’s from before Bruce, and some if it’s from after and a lot of it is both, I’m sure. We’ve all been shitty to each other before. Bruce especially.”

Dick finally pulled back just enough that he could look Jason in the eye. “We’re not some perfect, happy family Jay; I know that. And you’re not the only one who has trouble trusting this sometimes. I mean hell, Tim still won’t move back in even though he’s only 17 and Bruce has asked him to more than once. And that’s...” he gave a slight grimace, glancing away, “that’s kind of my fault. But it’s ok for him not to want that, to...” He shook his head, like he was trying to clear the thought away. “Sometimes, this whole thing has been an absolute shit show. I know.” He squeezed Jason’s shoulders with both hands, mouth growing into a crooked smile. “But the _potential_ we’ve got. I mean damn can you imagine if even _most_ of us got our shit together? We’d be nigh unstoppable.”

Jason huffed a wet laugh, scrubbing a hand over his face and shoving Dick in the chest, making him stumble back a step. His smile only grew. “We’d be unbreakable,” he added, voice teasing, “we’d be...un _batable_.”

“Oh my _god_ Dick.” Jason shook his head, shoulders shaking and mouth twitching into a smile he couldn’t fight. Dick just grinned back, eyes a little shiny.

“I think we’re on our way too,” he added, smile shrinking to something softer. And then he shrugged, “but it’s ok to have doubts. I mean I’m not always the shining beacon of confidence I know I appear to be.” He pressed a hand to his chest.

“I’ll let you in on a trick though,” he said as he crossed both arms in front of his chest.

“Oh?”

“Mhm. The secret to my optimism.”

Jason raised an eyebrow. “You mean it’s not just your natural charm?”

Dick shrugged, smile amused. “Maybe a little. But mostly, I ask myself the right question.”

Jason sucked in a deep breath, stretching his shoulders back and scrubbing a hand over his face before he slumped against the counter again, mirroring Dick’s posture. “And what’s that?”

Dick tilted his chin down, giving Jason an assessing look before he responded. “I know we’ve been taught, pretty much since infancy, to worry about the what ifs. What could go wrong? And if it does, can I handle it? If everything goes wrong what will I do? We prepare for the worst.” Dick shrugged again. “It’s kind of part of being a bat. And it has its place. But it can also turn you into a huge anxiety bomb.”

Jason snorted, scratching the back of his neck and trying not to feel so called out. Dick watched him for a minute, before he pushed up the sleeves of his sweatshirt and recrossed his arms. “It’s worth asking the opposite. _What if things work out?_ What then?”

Jason swallowed, letting that tumble around in his head.

“I know you think about it sometimes or you never would have agreed to any of this in the first place but I think your natural tendency is-“ He gestured a small explosion with his hands, “anxiety bomb.

“I’m not saying this is some magic fix, but it helps, to think about what could go right instead of wrong all the time,” he added, dropping his hands and sticking them in his pockets.

Jason looked toward the door to his bedroom. “Who taught you that?” He asked, “if it’s not your natural charm?”

Dick’s smile twisted into something like a grimace, “believe it or not? - College counselor, when I was considering dropping out.”

Jason tried not to laugh but it was a near thing. “You did drop out.”

“Yeah, but she almost had me convinced.”

Jason snorted that time, folding forward at the waist and shaking his head. “You give some pep talk Dick.”

“I know,” he laughed out, “the point is, it stuck with me.”

He tilted his head to the side, rocking back on his heels. “It doesn’t always work, mind you. And it’s not the only thing. I’ve...” He stopped for a moment, seeming unsure for only a split second before he continued on, like it was nothing. “I’ve been to therapy too, went for a couple years actually. Sometimes you need someone who isn’t involved to tell you, you aren’t crazy.”

“And maybe you aren’t ready for that, or you just don’t want to” he shrugged. “Which is why everything else I said is still true. If you need a reminder that we’ve got your back, I will gladly provide one, whatever you need.”

Then he gave a small, wry smile. “I might even need to hear some of this from you sometime.“

Jason straightened up, looking around his mostly empty apartment and trying to let all of that sink in. He wanted to be that for Dick too, he thought, for all of them.

“Just give me a little while before you ask,” he finally said back, after the quiet stretched just a little too long. He wanted to, but everything in that moment felt a little unreal, a little bit distant.

Dick nodded slowly, his expression gone serious but gentle. “I can do that.”

Jason really wanted to sleep.

Like he could just - _really_ \- use a nap. There was so much swirling around and shifting place in his head and his chest and it was _good_. It was all good. But Dick was right. It was so much and he already felt itchy at the thought of being stuck in the car with the three of them.

It was exhausting just looking at the boxes and bags of stuff they still needed to load up.

He shuffled past Dick and toward the couch to see about moving things toward the door but he just ended up staring at the stack, trying to get himself to move.

“Do you wanna take a break?” Dick asked, stepping just out of the kitchen, apparently sensing Jason’s weariness. “Eat something?”

“No,” he said, just as there was a tiny knock at the door before it swung open and Bruce and Tim stepped back inside.

“I just want to get this done.”

“Ok,” Dick nodded, looking around the room, “then let’s get going.”

*

It took them less time than Jason expected to load up the car, but even with how cold it was he was sweating and out of breath by the end of it. Just a couple weeks with no patrol or training and he was backsliding big time. Of course it could have something to do with how sick he was recently.

By the time Jason was surveying the apartment to make sure they hadn’t forgotten anything he was feeling touchy and grouchy.

“We can come back anytime,” Bruce tried to reassure, when Jason had been staring at his mostly empty guest room for nearing two minutes.

“I know that,” Jason snapped, feeling eyes on him like needles in his skin.

Bruce didn’t say anything for a moment and Jason huffed an irritated breath and dragged a hand through his hair. He knew it wasn’t Bruce, he was just trying to be helpful but Jason was _done_ being around people and they still had to drive back and Dick and Tim were looking at him with matching cautious expressions that made Jason feel simultaneously guilty and more irritated.

“Alright,” Bruce said after an awkward pause, “then if nothing’s jumping out to you, maybe we should head out.”

Jason took a deep, calming breath and mentally recited the poem to himself before he gave a curt nod and turned back toward the living room.

He watched them all shuffle out of his apartment, following on soft feet, and then he stood in the doorway, looking at where he’d spent the last year of his life, accumulating things, building a place for himself. He flicked off the light and closed the door, locking it behind him.

There wasn’t a lot of feeling attached as his floor disappeared from view. Mostly just a sense of removal, like it didn’t feel entirely real. Which had pretty much been this whole day. Or most of it.

The beginning had felt a little too real.

The very thought drained him even more and by the time they were all in the car and buckled Jason was leaning against the front passenger window with his eyes half closed.

The sun shining through the windows made the inside of the car warm and Dick and Tim were quietly talking in the backseat. The third time Jason blinked his eyes back open he felt a warm hand squeeze his forearm gently and he turned his head to look at Bruce, still leaned against the glass.

“Go to sleep, I’ll wake you up when we get there.” His voice was warm and fond and Jason was drowsy enough that he only nodded, closing his eyes and leaving all the complicated feelings for later.

He had time. And he had options, and he let that thought repeat in his head as he drifted off, not caring to think about anything else.

*

He woke the next morning with a dry mouth and sticky eyes and discovered he had slept for nearly eleven hours.

Not to mention his impromptu nap the day before as soon as they left his apartment. Bruce hadn’t had to wake him up after all. As soon as they pulled into the garage and the engine shut off he was awake.

They’d unloaded the boxes from the car and into the guest room Jason was staying in, but unpacking sounded entirely overwhelming and they’d left it for the next day. He still had some clothes and his overnight stuff unpacked so none of it was completely necessary.

Then Dick went to find Damian, and Tim went to find Cass and possibly Stephanie and Bruce gave him a _look_ and went to do whatever he normally did on Sunday afternoons. Jason was relieved, to be left alone, and he spent the rest of his day reading in his room and then lurking to the kitchen around dinner for something to scrounge up.

Then he went down to the cave, completely ignored Bruce, who let him be, and ran five miles on the treadmill because to hell with getting out of shape. It helped him think.

And there was a lot to think about.

Normally he’d go a few rounds with a training dummy if he couldn’t stomach the idea of sparring, ie _talking_ , but his right hand was still out of commission and even if it wasn’t, Jason wasn’t sure if it was a good idea. Even if he was dying to pulverize something.

Finally he took a shower, and by 9:30pm he was in bed again, passed out before Bruce even had a chance to do his nightly check in. He didn’t wake up again until after eight the next morning.

He was surrounded in garbage bags and boxes, though it seemed like a lot less in this room than it had in his apartment. He lay in bed for an exceedingly long time. Jason was sure he’d missed breakfast since Damian was supposed to be going back to school today, so he wasn’t in any hurry to get downstairs.

Bruce was probably at work even, he wasn’t sure, since they didn’t talk before he went to sleep. He checked his phone just in case and sure enough there was a text from him that he needed to go in to WE but that he’d be back around 1pm and he could help him unpack his things then.

So Jason let his day start slowly, without the pressure of other people. Alfred was around, he was sure, but it was likely that he was taking the morning when most everyone was gone to run some errands, do some grocery shopping, what have you. He had no idea where Cass was but when he eventually ventured into the kitchen he didn’t come across her.

He made his way down to the cave and decided to give the movement meditation another try. To center himself or whatever. He didn’t know if it was working since he’d had just as many flare ups as he’d expect since he came here but he wasn’t gonna _not try_.

And it was a sort of pleasant way to start the day. Peaceful in a way most of his mornings weren’t. He was pretty sure the brat did it almost every day, though probably a more traditional type. Left over training from The League - or maybe Talia herself.

Jason wondered absently if she got whatever message Bruce sent. If she would reply. The thought brought with it a nervous dip in his stomach.

He shook it away and settled into the movements, letting his mind stay quiet. Concentrating on making sure his joints were loose, on the feeling of his bare feet on the mats, the sound of his breathing as he moved. He didn’t know for how long, he just kept going until his heart rate felt like it was steady, his breathing even, and his mind quiet.

He did some stretches after, working on tight ligaments he hadn’t in too long. And when he felt loose and...and relaxed for once, he headed back upstairs and put real clothes on, ran a damp comb through his hair and tried to look like a functional human being for the first time in a while. He even shaved.

When he went back to the kitchen for breakfast it was empty still but for Titus, who was finishing up his own food, wagging his tail like mad as soon as Jason stepped in the room. “Hey big guy, I’ll take you on a walk after I eat.” He ran a hand over his head as he passed by and made himself a bowl of cereal, not bothering with anything more complicated.

Jason felt oddly ok sitting at the counter. Like a sort of calm he hadn’t been for a long time it seemed. He kept the little fidget toy in his pocket still and he reached for it while he ate, fiddling with it with his left hand while his right coordinated the spoon.

Bruce had apologized.

And it wasn’t some - it wasn’t some dumb bullshit, _‘sorry your feelings got hurt.’_

It felt real.

And he didn’t know if he was ready to forgive him yet, but Bruce hadn’t asked him to, and that...that settled something inside him. Some part of him that just kept thinking they couldn’t make this work unless their problems were resolved. Unless Jason could just get over the past.

But he didn’t have to. He had time. He could test this out. Just - see how it went.

And Jason wasn’t dumb enough to think it wouldn’t absolutely destroy him if it did all fall apart but so many things had already been so different than he expected. And he had more people now than just Bruce.

He used to think they were all under Batman’s thumb...but Jason had been wrong a lot before. And even a lot more recently. It was starting to feel like that wasn’t true either, but more like they were all a lot like Jason. Eternally tied to a flawed man who pulled them all together, like planets orbiting a sun. Whether for good or bad, it was hard to escape that gravity.

It was never as simple as Jason tried to make it. None of it was.

But he sort of felt like he could live with that, now.

“Come on Titus, let’s get a move on.” Jason rinsed his bowl in the sink and rushed the dog into the mud room.

Titus’s jacket and head sleeve were hung on a hook by the door and Jason quickly got him into his gear before he shrugged on one of Bruce’s coats and stepped into his boots. He took a tennis ball with him and let them both out onto the grounds.

It was cloudy with patches of sky and sun shining through when the clouds blew past, casting constantly moving shadows as Jason trudged off the back patio. Titus trotted along in his general vicinity, sniffing at the ground and peeing on every imaginary boundary. He threw the ball a few times as they went but mostly, Jason just walked.

Everything was damp but the ground was frozen just below the surface and stayed firm as he went. The air had a bite to it, and Jason wondered if it would snow again soon.

He was mostly aimless, wandering through grassy hills and naked trees with the sting of cold air in his lungs. But it was something to do, something to keep moving. Jason wasn’t used to being in his head this much. He was used to taking action.

But he hadn’t known what to do about any of his friggin’ problems for - well - forever. Most of the time though he could go shoot out some kneecaps or knock someone out with a fist or rubber bullets or he could dive into solving a case. He was always better at solving other people’s problems than his own.

The grounds looked familiar to how he remembered them from when he was kid, but not quite The same. Jason had spent a lot of time out here in the summer, but in late fall and winter he’d preferred to stay in. He’d spent long enough out in the cold.

Now though he was restless, and it had been a long time since he’d spent a night on the streets.

Titus kept up with him, sniffing around bushes and little patches of frozen grass.

Jason stopped at one point, staring up at the sky, at the tops of the trees that made him pause, because something felt so familiar about the shape of them. And then he glanced around, at the crest of the gentle slope he was standing on and the small image of the manor in the distance. He stood there for a long time, with nothing but a heavy sense of deja vu until it hit him like a truck when thick clouds blew over the sun and shadows darkened the sky.

He looked back down at the grass and took a few steps back and he pictured it exactly, laying out on the lawn on a clear night, watching a meteor shower tucked under Bruce’s arm to keep warm. He’d fallen asleep, remembered that phantom floating sensation as he was carried back to bed.

It was memories like that, that made being here hurt so bad sometimes. Because they meant so much to him still, even when he wanted to just leave it all behind he couldn’t.

It had never felt like anything he could have again, that security, the peace, the feeling of _belonging_.

But he wondered now, as he fiddled with the little plastic cube in his pocket, a gift meant as a distraction from bad thoughts and things that hurt, _what if things work out?_

There was no denying anymore, how much he’d wanted it for a long time, if he ever hadn’t. He hardly ever allowed himself to think about it because he kept trying to prepare for the worst. He was so ready for everything to go to shit.

Maybe that’s what the real problem was now.

He felt like he couldn’t let himself get his hopes up for how many times they’d been dashed before. But Jason borderline sabotaging everything every step of the way certainly wasn’t helping. And who was he really kidding? He’d had his damn hopes up since Bruce called about Titus. He just kept telling himself to stop it. But that certainly wasn’t working and god Jason was tired of the constant vigilance.

He was worried about the Pit and he was worried about being in the Manor and he was worried about getting close to Bruce again. That the change was superficial; that the apparent want to have him around was just because Bruce couldn’t stand the thought of failing at something.

But it didn’t feel like that. And Jason was, historically, _terrible_ at ignoring his feelings for as hard as he tried.

There was one time in Jason’s life when he’d had a real family. When people were looking out for him and caring for him, and it hurt more than anything when it fell apart the first time. When he came back wrong and everything was different but exactly the same and some new kid was wearing his uniform and it looked like everything had gone on just fine without him.

It had all felt so fake. And letting himself believe in that, when he was a kid, had felt like the biggest mistake of his life. He should have _known_ better.

He’d come back to himself later, realized the truth of it. That, in retrospect, he’d made much bigger mistakes than that, if he could even call it one anymore. It was the one time in his life when he’d felt safe. That if he fell, someone would catch him.

And he’d come around since then, mingled with the family more and let himself get dragged back to center, but he didn’t think he’d ever let himself feel that safety again. And every bump in the road after that had only reinforced the idea that he shouldn’t.

But when he asked himself, _what if things work out?_ That’s what kept coming back to him. That feeling. He could feel that way again, maybe, someday. He could see himself forgiving Bruce, in the future, if things kept going the way they were.

Jason’s mom had been a mess and she’d made Jason’s life a lot harder sometimes than it should have been. But he’d forgiven her. Because he knew she loved him and her faults had felt like weakness, and Jason knew what it was like to be weak.

The more he thought about Bruce and the last few weeks and months before that, before Jason had let himself see any change, the more the idea settled in him. That Bruce was weak too, despite everything he did to hide it.

Maybe if Jason stopped fighting himself, and Bruce, and the entire situation and just let himself see things for what they appeared to be at face value, instead of reading into ever detail and calling back every old hurt when he got anxious. Maybe if he let himself believe the things everyone was telling him. Maybe then...things could work out.

And if this whole thing with the Pit - if it got harder, if he kept getting worse - at least he’d have something to fight for. Somewhere to land.

Jason stared out at the manor, and the cloud patched sky, at Titus, ball in his mouth and tail wagging, and he made a decision.

He was gonna try, for real.

He wasn’t going to half ass this and just sit back and wait and see what happened. He wasn’t gonna let the Pit take him over and he wasn’t going to let his fear stop him. He wasn’t gonna keep running from the dogs biting at his heels, he was done. It was time to work.

He wouldn’t let himself look back on it and wonder, _if I had just given it a real chance could it have worked out?_ If this all fell apart in the end, it wouldn’t be because of him.

And if it did, then he’d know. If Bruce ever pulled shit like he did in Ethiopia again then he could leave for good. Cut ties without being dragged back by the what ifs, and the maybes.

But he wasn’t gonna wait on it anymore, like it was inevitable. He was gonna give this a real shot. Not the one foot in, one foot out bullshit he’d been doing so far.

It was...a bizarre feeling that came over him then, like a surge of energy as the clouds shifted in shape and the sun broke over the grass and everything was wet and glittering. His lungs stung from the cold and Titus came and dropped the ball at his feet. Jason picked it up and threw it one more time and then he started on his way back to the manor.

There were things he needed to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something of a transition. But my boy is making progress 😢 there’s so much ahead of him, I can _feel it_. 
> 
> Drop me a comment if you enjoyed and feel up to it ☺️
> 
> Chapter title from Shuffle by Bombay Bicycle Club


	26. It’s just a spark, but it’s enough to keep me going

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason has the right idea, but it takes a nudge from Cass to get him pointed in the right direction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings this chapter!

Alfred was always busy, so Jason wasn’t surprised when he didn’t run into him on his way back to his room after pulling off Titus’s gear and wiping his paws. The boxes everyone unloaded, along with a pile of garbage bags, were left in a neat arrangement at the foot of the bed, expanding into part of the room.

Jason didn’t know what he was doing really, other than that he needed to unpack, get it all out and just....make a place here again. He went for the first box, opening the top and finding an assortment of notebooks, pens and pencils, his laptop. He put that one to the side and moved to another, which was full of books.

But there wasn’t really anywhere to put his books in this room. No extra shelf space with the already full case against the wall by the window. He scratched at the back of his neck for a moment, as he pushed that one aside as well and reached for the bag he knew contained Alfred’s blanket and his favorite pillow.

It was when he was shaking out the red knit throw that a shadow of movement caught his eye and he looked up to find Cass standing in the doorway, watching him.

He froze where he stood, blanket half folded in his hands. “Uh...hi.”

She gave him a tiny smile and a little wave of her hand. “Want to help?”

Jason stared back at her then, and the way she had her hands folded behind her back and how straight she stood. Even then she was tiny, but Jason knew that didn’t mean much for what she was capable of.

He hesitated, looking at the pile of his things and thinking about what was all there. He didn’t really know Cass. Sure she’d been around since he woke up in the manor, and they’d shared a few meals together. He liked her, he thought, but that was about all it was - a thought. But, why not? he wondered. She was a part of this too. Part of...well, his family, he supposed.

“Sure,” he finally said, voice a little less confident than he’d been trying for, but she only grinned back and took a step into the room. It might be nice, he thought, to have someone around who didn’t know him before he died and who he also hadn’t attempted to kill at any point. It was a little weird to hang around someone he didn’t have any history with, outside of short interactions on patrol, only existing in each other’s peripherals at all times.

He did, of course, try to kill her brothers on different occasions but for whatever reason she didn’t seem to hold it against him.

She didn’t hesitate either, Jason observed as he finally spread the throw at the end of the bed and set his pillow with the others. She was already dragging boxes from their stacked positions to the floor, opening each one in turn and staring at their contents.

There was a moment that he almost stopped her, when she began pulling books from one box and just stacking them on the floor, digging through the bottom and coming up with a bright green candle. She was haphazard about it, setting things down wherever she could reach. And Jason didn’t think there was a judgmental bone in her body but it was still nerve wracking to have someone you didn’t know very well going through your things.

There was also the awkward matter of...not having any idea where to put anything. This room was set up already, there wasn’t a lot of furniture, a dresser, a desk, a bed, a nightstand, and a bookshelf. Not a lot of places to put things despite its size.

And Cass was still dragging books out of the boxes and stacking them on the floor.

“Hey Cass....” Jason fidgeted, rubbing at his elbow. She looked up, eyes attentive. “Just uh...wait a second. I don’t know where I’m putting any of this stuff yet.”

She slowed in her movements, setting down a hair dryer and slipping her hands into her lap, staring.

Jason swallowed, looking around the room. It was no use unpacking the books at all yet really. He’d need more shelving or...maybe he could just put them in storage...it wasn’t like there wasn’t an entire library a floor down from them. He should have just left them in his apartment he thought. Would have been one less heavy thing to lug down the stairs at least.

But leaving them didn’t feel right either. Jason didn’t even have that many things to take with him. It all fit at the base of the bed in this single room. Even if the room was big, it didn’t even take up that much floor space.

“Well you can, you can put the stuff in that box in the bathroom I guess...” he said, gesturing to the one she’d pulled the hair dryer out of. She nodded slowly, but didn’t move, continuing to watch him.

He shifted, uncomfortable, wondering where that surge of confidence ten minutes ago had suddenly vanished to.

“Why...” Jason glanced down, where Cass still had her hands folded in her lap, something like hesitation in her face. “Do you...stay here?”

He couldn’t help the way his body tensed up at the question, abruptly anxious. “Bruce...asked me to.” He swallowed, glancing away, feeling his stomach sink. “If you’re not comfortable with it-“

“No, no.” Cass interrupted him, and when he looked back she was frowning, “this room. Why stay...in this room?”

Jason stared back, a sort of blankness in his head. “This is the room Alfred set me up in,” he said quietly.

Cass blinked, and nodded, the frown never leaving her face. She looked confused if Jason had to guess, though he wasn’t the best at reading her he didn’t think. “What?” He asked, already feeling self conscious.

Cass watched him, in that way that made him instantly uncomfortable, and then she slowly unfolded herself, getting to her feet, never taking her eyes off him. She crossed her arms like she was thinking, considering him, and Jason did his best not to fidget. He knew he was probably projecting all kinds of alarming things but she only stood there for a moment longer before she spoke.

“You have room here already. Why new one?”

Jason sputtered, briefly, shoving his hands in his pockets and finding the fidget toy there. “That’s....” he started, rolling the toy against his palm. He didn’t know what to say, he hadn’t thought about his old room much since he’d been here. The subject made his stomach twist but he didn’t know how to explain it in a way she could understand.

Or anyone for that matter. If he even wanted to.

“I don’t know,” he finally said, “I guess it just doesn’t feel like mine anymore.”

She frowned again, eyebrows creasing in the center now. “But...is yours.”

Jason huffed and shook his head, finally slumping to sit on the bed behind him.

Cass took a step forward, dropping her arms. “Saved it for you. Just in case.”

He couldn’t help the startled hiccup of laughter that came out of his mouth. 'Cause that was- well, it was a little far from the truth. “There was no _just in case_ about me coming back from the dead Cass. Bruce left it alone because...” And he felt a little breathless, lungs compressing with the pressure of the past.

Jason thought, now, with a clearer head, it had probably been too painful to think about going through his old things back then. Nobody wanted to put their teenage kid to rest. And Bruce was notoriously bad at getting closure and moving on, so nothing ever got moved into storage or was gotten rid of. Instead, it remained a museum of Jason’s life before he died.

Minus, he supposed, the box of things that Alfred had put together for him. Most of which had now made its way back here with him, somewhat ironically.

He hadn’t known about it when he first came back. His old room. He wondered if it would have made a difference or if the Pit would have tainted that too.

Jason sucked in a breath before he finally replied, “he left it alone ‘cause it was too much trouble to go through my stuff.” A vast oversimplification, sure, but Jason felt weird talking about it.

Cass was quiet for a moment, observing him still and it was almost starting to bug him now, the same way everybody walking on egg shells the day before had chafed. But then she shook her head and frowned again, opened her mouth and then stopped, closing it with a huff of breath before she raised her hands instead, signing to him. _“Maybe, before. But later, after. When I was here. Became ‘just in case’. Became hope.”_

Jason blinked at her, hardly able to comprehend what she was saying. That one of the things that had made Jason so incredibly uncomfortable for so long; what appeared to him to be a shrine to a dead kid, could have been Bruce’s way of saying he was welcome in the manor, if he ever wanted to come home. That there would always be a place for him here. His first instinct was to think, _no way_ , he was reading too far into something again, but he also knew Bruce always thought so much more than he said.

And he’d been so _surprised_ , when Jason had said he only missed the kid that died.

He sat there, not knowing how to feel and Cass shifted forward, toward him, eyes steady on his face when she said, “you want.”

Jason looked up at her, a deer in headlights. He didn’t know what to say back because he was busy reeling about all the things he could have been wrong about before. She didn’t stop though, her feet slipping across the carpet silently until she stood just in front of him. They were almost the same height, when Jason was sitting down.

Slowly, eyes never leaving his face, she reached for his arm, hands wrapping around his elbow and gently tugging him to his feet. He didn’t know why he let her, as she took a step back, watching him closely the entire time. They stood there staring at each other in silence before she tugged again, this time more insistently, and pulled him toward the door.

He knew what she was doing, could feel his heart rate picking up at the thought, but he didn’t stop her. Just let her pull him through the halls until they were standing in front of his old bedroom door.

When they arrived she stopped and looked at him, and then stepped to the side, waiting.

There was nothing on the outside to indicate the room was special. Jason had never put up a name or made a sign for his door like Dick. He’d thought about it, but by the time he’d felt at home enough in the manor to do something like that he was a young teenager and the idea had seemed dorky, like a little kid thing to do.

He knew what would be on the other side but - Jason had never been in. Not since he’d come back. Not since he’d been fifteen and running away. There was so much there. A good life he’d run away from.

There were times when he got so upset, so angry, at the thought of anyone blaming him for what happened. He wondered if it was because it was so hard sometimes, not to blame himself.

He blinked, feeling warm skin brush the back of his right hand. When he looked down he saw Cass, slim fingers wrapping around his wrist. He must have pulled his hands out of his pockets but he didn’t remember doing it. He watched, detached, as she lifted his hand and set it directly on the doorknob very carefully. And then she leaned just right, so she could meet his eyes and she said, very, very quietly, “deserve.”

Jason swallowed, throat suddenly tight and eyes burning, a pounding in his heart that filled his ears and finally gripped the knob - and turned.

He wasn’t sure what he expected, if it was the feeling of a punch to the gut or of possession, like his old self would somehow overtake him suddenly as he stepped softly into the room, leaving the door ajar behind him.

But it was nothing so dramatic.

It didn’t smell musty, or old, or shut up like you might expect for a room that hadn’t been inhabited in some six years. But none of the surfaces were dusty. Everything looked like he remembered. Like he just came home from school.

What stuck out to him first was the old photo of him and Bruce missing from the nightstand. It was still in one of the boxes he’d brought back from his apartment.

The room was one of the smaller bedrooms in the manor, but still spacious. Jason had chosen it when he fist arrived there because the size of the others had been overwhelming at the time. Like he might as well be sleeping in a field for how open it was.

He had trophies on a shelf above his headboard. A certificate framed for a short story competition he’d entered in 8th grade. He had an old light projector that cast constellations on the ceiling. Old band posters hung on the walls. One stylized poster of Batman and Robin that Bruce had almost not allowed him to hang up.

The colors were faded now.

Jason was even pretty sure there would be a set of weights under the bed if he looked. He had a desk, and he knew if he opened the drawers they’d be full of neatly organized pens and notebooks. A now ancient laptop sat neatly in the center.

His bedspread was a soft, olive green quilt and when he sat on it the mattress gave just like he expected it to.

Jason looked around and breathed in his old life and he wondered what the feeling was. There was a fluttery sort of almost panic, like he wasn’t allowed to be here. But then Cass stepped in the door, hands clasped carefully in front of her, and she went to his bookcase by the desk and ran a hand over the shelf.

“You liked to read,” she said, looking over at him. He couldn’t tell if it was a question or a statement. Jason blinked, his breath coming a little short as he nodded and cleared his throat.

“Yeah...still do.”

She nodded sharply and looked back at the books. “Yes, still you.”

Now that. That did feel like a punch to the chest.

He looked away from her, rubbing a thumb over the blanket and letting out a shaky breath. There was so much here. So much of Jason. And he knew, with the kind of clarity that only hits after everything has changed, why he always avoided this room. It was the same reason he avoided the manor to a certain extent, but it was so much more here.

This was where Jason was _safe_. Where he felt it. And all the time he’d spent fighting being drawn back here was because the gravity was too strong. It was the same reason he could never truly get away from this place and this family, from Bruce. He was tied to this, even when he thought he wanted nothing to do with it.

Bruce and Jason had tried to start over before. Erase the books and let go of old hurts and resentment. But Jason didn’t think they every really did. It was more about pretending they were never hurt. That none of it had ever happened. But how could that ever work, when the biggest thing that always pulled him back was _this_? He couldn’t forget this.

And neither could Bruce, he thought, otherwise he would have let him go a long time ago.

Cass moved silently over the floor and slipped onto the bed next to him, her eyes following his gaze around the room. She didn’t say anything. Just tucked her feet up under her and sat perfectly still, like she could wait there all day.

Maybe they couldn’t talk about all of it, right now. Maybe they didn’t need to rehash every detail at all, but there was something to be said for remembering. The good and the bad together. Maybe they could both figure out how to let go of the bad in the future, but Jason didn’t want to start over.

And why couldn’t he have this? he wondered, sitting on his old bed in his old room. If he was gonna try to let Bruce back into his life...why shouldn’t he have this too?

It was _his_. It was.

Things were different, of course. So much had happened between the then and now that they’d always felt so astronomically far apart he couldn’t consolidate one with the other. His life felt split in two, the before and the after. But Bruce was right, as offended as Jason had been that night, when he said that everyone changed when they grew up. Jason was an extreme case, but it still applied.

The difference was, normally as you grew and changed, other things did too. Dick still had his old room set up too. He still used it, but it had changed with him. The old band posters got taken down and replaced with drawings and photo’s by his little brothers. His Superman bedspread was exchanged for a brightly patterned quilt he’d picked up in Eastern Europe during a Titan’s mission.

But the Flying Grayson’s picture still hung on the wall, matted and framed now. And that little stuffed elephant, patched and worn, still sat on his bed with the pillows. It was all of him, pieces from when he was small up through his teens and into now.

Jason didn’t have a place that was anything but before or after. Even when he unpacked the box Alfred made up for him he’d shoved most of it where it couldn’t be seen. Maybe it had something to do with why he never felt whole.

But he could. He could have both now. If he wanted to.

He looked at Cass, sitting there next to him, looking perfectly content. She returned his gaze after a moment, her eyes scanning his face and posture for a split second before they ended back at his eyes.

“Ready?” she asked, sounding sure.

“Yeah,” Jason said on a breath, “yeah, I think so.”

She grinned then, all Cheshire and teeth and Jason coughed something like a laugh back, feeling jittery and strange but ok. Like he’d had too much caffeine or something. And even though he could feel the Pit there, it was quiet, and Jason didn’t think he was anxious enough to bring it on, which seemed like a miracle in itself.

Cass stood from the bed, grabbing his arm and pulling him up after her. She didn’t say anything, just let go of his arm and looked at him expectantly, waiting, again, for him to make the first move. And so he did.

Jason took a deep breath and he went walking down through the halls back toward the guest room with Cass trailing after him. It didn’t take long to get the boxes transferred, just down one hall and around the corner. They stacked everything by the door or on the bed and by the time Cass had placed the last box Jason was already looking around for things to change.

“Help me get these posters down,” he said, climbing up on the bed and over a pile of his clothes to get to one under the shelf above the headboard. He hardly remembered the band now beyond a mild recollection of their name. Not having listened to them in years it was an easy decision.

His hands still hovered just above the corners for a moment, a stuttering hesitation at the thought of really doing it, removing a part of himself that used to be.

But it wasn’t him anymore, and that was the point.

He slipped a thumb under old tack gum, folding the corners and peeling them away with a soft ‘pop’ and then, for good measure, he tore it in half and let the paper halves float to the floor.

When he turned, Cass was standing by one wall, ready to take down another, watching him with bright, focused eyes. He wondered what she saw. If he seemed crazy to her.

But then she peeled another poster off the wall and tore it down the middle with a vicious sort of glee before she grinned up at him, still standing on the bed. “Yeah, yeah, take ‘em all down,” Jason breathed out, breathless like he’d just run a mile. “Except for the Batman one, leave that.” He pointed to its position, next to the book shelf and Cass gave him an _A-OK_ sign with her right hand and grabbed at another, tearing it from the wall with gusto.

Jason stumbled down from the bed, looking around the room with a fervent sort of energy. He yanked open the top drawer of the dresser and found it full of his old socks, still neatly paired. The next drawer down had t-shirts and jeans. There was no way any of it would fit him now. They were a part of his life he’d quite literally outgrown, so they had to go.

Without much thought Jason scooped up a stack, walked them into the hall, and dumped them on the floor.

Cass had a better idea, and when he turned around she’d pulled an entire drawer out and he had to step out of her way so she could fit through the door and dump it upside down on top of the pile he’d left.

They dumped his old laptop, and then Jason emptied out one of the boxes he still needed to unpack and labeled it ‘storage’. Because there were things he didn’t necessarily want to throw away but that didn’t need to be in here, on display anymore. The certificate he won for the short story went in it, along with the trophy for _Most Chin-ups_ in his 7th grade gym class. He trashed his Aquaman figurine still sitting in the bookshelf, along with two more members of the Justice League, but he kept Wonder Woman.

Cass seemed to take great pleasure in pulling all of his clothes that were hanging in the closet from their hangers until they had a huge mound of them in the middle of the floor that Jason transported to the hall with the rest.

There was a cork board hanging above his desk with some letters pinned to it. He took it down but removed the letters, folding them and setting them carefully in the box to be stored.

There was a half crushed pack of cigarettes tucked inside an old mint tin that was stashed in the top drawer of his desk. He laughed about it for a second before dumping the whole thing in the trash, wondering how he’d ever thought Bruce or Alfred wouldn’t know.

The rest of the drawer was an assortment of pens, pencils and erasers, a couple rulers, a singular notebook. He kept a few pencils but he dumped the pens that were bound to be dried out by now.

The other drawers had more notebooks, half filled with doodles and short stories and he set those aside with the letters.

Cass, after dropping the last hanger on the floor, rolled herself in a backward somersault across the open space on his mattress and then perched on the edge, watching him. It felt oddly like being observed by a carnivorous bird but he didn’t think she meant it to.

“Here, uh, you wanna go dump the trash?” He gestured to the now full trash can at his feet and she nodded, getting up and grabbing it. As she lifted it off the ground Jason saw the shiny plastic print of the Just League across the side and said, “actually, you can throw away the entire thing. Just bring back a couple garbage bags maybe?”

Cass gave him a thumbs up as she exited the room, moving quickly, just like he was. He didn’t know if he was spurred on by her energy or the other way around but he pulled the next drawer open and found it crammed with old homework assignments.

All the math he threw on the floor, keeping the singular essay with his teacher’s comment at the top, _“This is excellent Jason, I’d love to speak to you about entering a writing competition coming up.”_ He folded it and tucked it into the edge of the framed certificate.

When Cass slipped back in the room a moment later he didn’t look up. Not until he heard, “well, I suppose there will be more going to the consignment store than usual this time around.” Jason startled, finding Alfred standing there, apron still tied around his waist, looking around the room until his eyes landed back on him.

“Miss Cassandra informed me of your...project,” he said, gesturing to the mounds of stuff on the floor and in the hall. “I wished to see for myself.”

“Oh, I...” he abruptly felt bad. For the mess, sure, but also because Alfred was the one who’d taken care of all of this. The one who came in here and dusted and vacuumed and opened the windows every few days to air the place out.

“Please, Master Jason,” he smiled, eyes crinkling up at the sides, “it is your room, and your things. You’re allowed to do with it what you please.” He stepped inside then and observed the jumble of hangers on the floor as Cass sat herself on the carpet and began crumpling Jason’s old math homework into a garbage bag.

He wiped his hands on his apron and looked to Jason once more.

“Is there anything you’d like me to do?”

“What? No,” Jason blurted before he could even think about it, but then Alfred blinked at him as if he was _disappointed_ and Jason almost gaped.

“Food,” Cass said from the floor, looking up from her half full bag. “We’re both hungry.”

“I never said I was hungry,” Jason threw back. She gave him a half lidded look like he was stupid in return and he felt his stomach gurgle gently, just loud enough to hear.

Alfred laughed. _Actually laughed_ , like Jason had hardly heard him do maybe ten times in his life. “That, I’m quite sure, I can remedy. Your father said he’d be home shortly, I was just getting ready to prepare something for lunch. Any requests?” He looked directly to Jason.

“I’m...good with anything.”

His smile was warm and he nodded, reaching out a hand and patting Jason’s arm. “As usual then. Perhaps I’ll fix some sandwiches. Then you can eat them whenever you’re ready, and I’ll have time to whip up some dessert.”

Cass crowed in triumph and signed _“sugar!”_ with enthusiasm. Alfred huffed and rocked back on his heels with his hands clasped behind his back, shaking his head and so clearly in a good mood that Jason was a little flabbergasted.

“Well then, I’ll go get started.”

He gave them both one more fond look before he left the room, deftly avoiding the massacre all over the floor.

Jason stood in front of his desk with an old car magazine clutched in his hand and asked, “what the hell was that?”

Cass snorted before she pushed her hair out of her eyes and gave him a soft glare. “He’s happy.”

“I could see that.” He gestured toward the door with his magazine, looking at the now empty space with a strange feeling in his chest. “He was practically humming, and what, ‘cause I tore up my old room?”

She tilted her head at him, like she didn’t understand. When she opened her mouth to respond she paused, and then wrinkled her nose and shook her head, like the words irritated her. She fiddled with the drawstring on the bag and stared at it, dejected.

He had always been wary of Cass since he'd heard about her and what she could do. He’d been jealous too, at the thought of being able to tell what someone else was feeling just by looking at them. But now he wondered how frustrating it must be not to be able to say what you meant.

He cleared his throat then. “I guess next time he’s in a mood I’ll go trash Tim’s room. Cheer him right up.”

She looked up, cocking an eyebrow with a little snort and held her hand up for the magazine he was holding. “If Tim came back, might work.” She gave him a wry smile, something older in her face than he had seen before now.

“Yeah I hear we’ve got another prodigal son these days.”

She made a face, like she wasn’t sure what that meant, but nodded. “Miss him.”

Jason hesitated, feeling like it wasn’t his place to say anything and also a little cautious, not wanting to say the wrong thing when she was telling him something personal.

“...you spend a lot of time with him still, don’t you?”

She shrugged, “not the same.”

“Yeah,” Jason sighed, thinking about when Dick used to visit when he was a kid. “I bet he’ll be back. If I can be dragged back here, there’s always hope.”

She looked up and grinned again, hair falling in her eyes. “Yes, always hope. Someone new is fun too.”

Jason snorted. “Oh yeah, I’m a barrel of laughs.”

He shut the drawers on the desk then, looking around at the utter mess they had made of the place.

“Well, it’s a start,” he said, but all they had done so far was purge it of the old parts of his life he didn’t care about anymore. And it still looked...the same, for the most part.

He felt antsy, standing there, like he needed to be moving but he didn’t want to put away his things yet, it didn’t feel like _enough_.

“Let’s move the bed,” Jason said, suddenly.

It was pushed into the corner of the room, the head board against one wall and the left side under the main window. His biggest thought as a kid was that it was the furthest from the door and he could escape out the window in short order if he needed to.

Now things were different.

Cass perked up at this pronouncement, rubbing her hands together and clapping once before she moved to the foot of the bed. Jason laughed a little, running a hand through his hair and tugging at the roots. They dragged it halfway across the floor before realizing there was too much junk everywhere to get any further and they didn’t even know where they were trying to put it.

“Ok, ok, stop,” Jason half laughed, almost falling on his ass before he managed to stand back up and survey the room. “We gotta be...organized.”

She looked dubious as Jason began to pile the hangers from the floor on the bed, one obstacle out of the way. He decided the bed would work best in the center of the wall opposite the window, but it was where all the boxes and bags of clothes were piled. He heaved a sigh.

“I think we’re gonna have to drag all my stuff back out of here before we do this.”

Cass made a noise of distaste and wrinkled her nose.

“Yeah, not as fun but, necessary.”

They were moving quickly, still buzzing with a slightly manic energy that kept their pace up. When the floor was free of debris and hangers, and the hallway was a veritable obstacle course, Jason decided he wanted to move, not just the bed, but all of the furniture.

His dresser was halfway across the floor when rustling in the hall as someone climbed through their mess cut through Cass’s giggling as her hands slipped off the bottom of the dresser and she slid down its side until she was sitting on the carpet.

“Come on, Cass, seriously?” Jason laughed out, looking up when the soft noise resolved itself into a human form in the doorway. For some reason he had been expecting Alfred, forgetting that Bruce was supposed to be there soon. When their eyes met he immediately froze, stopped in a crouched position, hands still curved under the bottom of the dresser.

Bruce was standing there with an entirely blank look on his face and Cass’s giggling quickly cut off. Jason could feel the bottom of his stomach drop out, glancing around the room with an almost frantic backpedaling.

Maybe it was a bad idea. Maybe he shouldn’t have done this. Bruce had kept it this way for a reason. Sure it had been Jason’s but-

“Alfred,” Bruce stopped, his voice rough as he swallowed and cleared his throat, taking one small step into the room, like he was stepping through an invisible barrier. “Alfred wanted me to let you two know that lunch is ready.”

His voice was strained, almost husky.

Cass stood smoothly and dusted off her palms, walking up to Bruce, who’s eyes followed her carefully, looking at her like she might be some sort of miracle. She leaned up on her toes as she approached and kissed his cheek with a pat to the other side of his face and Bruce didn’t move beyond a blink, just watched as she wandered out of the room.

Jason watched too, feeling a distinct loss. Because then it was suddenly just the two of them. And Jason still felt the conviction, the want to do this and _try_ and to be - to be Bruce’s son again. Reclaiming his life...or something. That sounded stupid maybe. But he didn’t know if Bruce would understand.

He let go of the dresser after a moment and slowly pushed himself to his feet.

“Are you going to go eat?” Bruce asked, voice hesitant as he still gazed around the room like he didn’t recognize it, not looking at Jason as he spoke.

He shook his head, “no,” he wiped his hands on the front of his jeans and hesitantly added, “I wanna keep working.”

Bruce nodded, eyes still wandering, “would you like some help?”

It was quiet, tentative like he wasn’t sure he was welcome there and Jason swallowed roughly, feeling his chest tighten up with something warm and strange, almost unfamiliar. “Yeah, sure, if you can wait on lunch.”

Bruce nodded again, almost eagerly, “I can wait.” He quickly took off his suit jacket and tie, tossing them on the back of Jason’s desk chair, and then he came to the other side of the dresser where Cass had been. “Where did you want it?” He asked, already crouching to get a hold on it.

They moved it to sit next to the bed, and then his desk to be under the window. There was very little talking, both of them compelled to keep moving. The nightstand followed, to sit next to the bed and then Bruce surveyed the room, eyes critical.

“You have a lot of books, in the hall,” he said suddenly. Jason nodded, not sure where he was going.

“They won’t fit...you’ll...need another bookcase.” He gestured halfheartedly to the current shelving, already stacked full.

“Oh...yeah. I guess I’ll...order one or something.”

But Bruce shook his head, a glint in his eye that Jason recognized faintly, another thing he remembered but never really thought he’d see again.

“There’s an empty one, in the music room.”

Jason stared at him for a second, a quiet pause settling in the air before the both of them were off without a word. He followed Bruce down a hall, and then another, toward a lesser used part of the manor with a large open floor plan and a grand piano at its center. No one in the manor played, anymore, that Jason was aware of, but he had no doubt that the piano would be in tune if he dared to try it.

There was a bookcase, just like Bruce said, but it wasn’t actually empty. There were some decorative statues, a miniature bust of Beethoven and a couple other composers, other equally pretentious, rich people things. And then there was some sheet music, in books and stacks of single sheets, yellowed and wrinkled with age, a single framed photograph of Bruce as a little kid, sitting on the piano bench next to his mom.

Jason hesitated when he saw it all, not wanting to disturb things that had been there for longer than he even knew. But Bruce had no such qualms, he walked straight to it and plucked each item out of the shelves one by one, setting them on top of the piano, where Jason knew they would bug Alfred to death.

When it was officially empty, Bruce carefully tipped it over into Jason’s waiting hands and then they were lumbering it on quick, short footsteps toward his room. They were forced to lift it to chest level when they reached the disaster in the hall, but they did manage to wrestle it inside without breaking anything, which was a feat.

It didn’t match the other bookcase quite perfectly. They were similar in color but the new case was slightly wider, with taller shelves and decorative molding at the corners. Jason kind of liked it though, when he stepped back to see them side by side.

The perfect edges and clean lines of the manor were never really Jason, but this was nice. Made it feel more lived in, he thought.

He glanced around the room then, at the desk, now squarely under the wide window that looked out at the grounds, curtains pulled open, letting light stream across it. The bed was pushed up against the opposite wall with the dresser next to it and the two bookshelves lined the third with the closet on the fourth.

There was still a mound of hangers on the bed and the desk had a small stack of papers on it he wasn’t sure what to do with.

The Batman and Robin poster hung in an odd place now, a little too close to the new bookshelf.

When Jason glanced at Bruce he was doing the same thing, looking around the room again like he had when he’d first walked in, like he wasn’t sure the situation was real. Jason almost laughed, because he felt the same way. Neither of them ever thought he’d be back here. Not really. Certainly not like this. And for the first time in the last two weeks Jason realized he hadn’t felt the Pit in a while, hadn’t even thought about it.

Reflexively he reached for it, listening for that thrumming pulse just off beat with his heart. He did hear it, sensing it in a bone deep way that hadn’t changed; it tugged at his anxiety, wanted to drag it to the surface but he pressed down on it.

It was a bizarre sort of realization that came over him then. That the reason he was there, the reason he was in his old room right now, with Bruce, rearranging furniture and puzzling part of his old life into his new one like he never thought he could - was because of the Pit. Because of this terrible resurgence that pushed him to one of his weakest points.

But then he looked over at Bruce, who was still quietly observing the room, and he knew that wasn’t all of it. He’d been there before, in that place, probably more than once if he was honest...but Bruce hadn’t been there then.

Mostly it hadn’t been his fault, circumstances being what they were. But sometimes it had.

It was baffling to think that maybe it was all just down to timing. Down to both of them lining up at the right moment; that Bruce reached out, blindly, at a time when Jason really needed him.

If either thing hadn’t happened, he didn’t think this would have worked out.

“We should paint in here,” Bruce said out of the blue, interrupting Jason’s train of thought as his eyes drew back to him.

“We’ll have to move all the furniture again,” Jason replied, mulling over the idea anyway. There was plenty left he’d like to do in the room. Replace the bedspread, add a comfortable chair and a lamp in one corner to read in maybe.

Bruce nodded, “Of course. But there’s time. It doesn’t have to happen right away.”

And that was a strange thought. It had been brought up before, but Jason wasn’t sure he had really believed it. Even when he hadn’t felt like a ticking time bomb he’d never had the sense that any part of his life would last.

Now, he wondered, with the echo of the Pit still in his mind, _what if things work out?_

The answer ached in his chest. And he swallowed and looked at Bruce, gazing back at him, and then around at the walls and he said, “yeah, seems like.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE END
> 
> Hahahaha no I'm totally kidding. This is not the end, but it does have something of the feel of one I thought. Anyway I hope you enjoyed!! There is still more to come! This fic is officially gonna be more than 200k words I'm dead. I'm pretty sure that Jason's old room remaining untouched after his death is entirely fanon but it is one I thoroughly enjoy using...
> 
> since I haven't thrown this out in a while, find me on [tumblr](https://batbirdies.tumblr.com).
> 
> Drop me a comment if you feel up to it!! :)
> 
> Chapter title from Paramore's Last Hope


	27. No ray of sunlight's ever lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day continues, Damian is a brat who doesn't know when to shut up but Jasons's not complaining in the end. He might even be kind of excited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is one small warning this chapter in end notes!!!
> 
> I'm so happy to have arrived here, I hope you all enjoy this chapter<3

They didn’t stop for lunch until the last of Jason’s clothes were folded in the dresser and hung in the closet, bathroom things put away, books loaded in the new bookshelf with a few double stacked in front. He’d need another unit, or maybe to hang some shelves on the walls, but it worked for now. 

There were a few things still packed away, things that had gone in his main living space in his apartment. Bruce assured him he could put them anywhere in the manor that he wanted. The main space was for his use too, but he left it alone for now, leaving the singular box of leftover things next to the bed. 

By the time they made it down to the kitchen Jason was ravenous and Bruce was probably right there with him. Alfred wasn’t there when they came down, apparently on his way to go pick up Damian from school, but he'd left plates out for them already stacked with sandwiches and chips, saran wrapped and waiting.

In the end Jason polished off one full sandwich, some potato chips, and an entire cinnamon roll. While he leaned back on his stool trying to take a deep breath around a full stomach Cass was working on her third cinnamon roll. Bruce gave her an exasperated look while he picked at his own but she only grinned and licked the icing off her fingers.

"Do you have plans with Stephanie later?" Bruce asked her quietly, as he stood up from his seat, taking his and Jason’s plates to the sink to rinse and put in the dishwasher. It was while she was answering that the front door sensor chimed, signaling Alfred’s return with Damian. 

Jason was waiting, and relatively prepared, to be hounded about whether or not he walked Titus, and for how long, and at what time, and did he throw the ball for him or not? But instead Damian appeared in the doorway and stopped dead in his tracks, looking around the room with narrow eyes and completely ignoring everyone there.

He didn’t say hello, even when Cass waved, and he didn’t react at all to the obvious smell of cinnamon rolls in the air.

“How was school?” Bruce asked, only to be brushed off with a soft, _“hn,”_ as he finally stepped into the kitchen and began a slow march around the island where they all sat, eyes scanning the floor.

Alfred soon appeared after him, holding the kid’s backpack by the handle with an unimpressed look.

Jason watched in mild amusement as Damian prowled around the room, crossing behind them and all the way back around to the doorway. 

“What are you doing?” Jason asked, just as he looked up with a deep frown on his face.

“Where is she?”

“Damian,” Bruce barked back, voice sharp as Alfred tapped the kid’s shoulder and thrust his backpack into his arms. Damian took it, but he didn’t even look at Alfred, just slung it back over his shoulder with a scowl.

“You still have not told him?”

“Damian-”

“Told me what?” Jason asked just as Cass hopped out of the seat next to him.

“We talked about this,” Bruce interjected, still to Damian, shoulders stiff where he leaned against the kitchen sink, matching the scowl on his youngest’s face.

“You cannot leave her with-”

 _“Damian.”_ Bruce pushed away from the sink, sounding honestly angry. He turned toward the kid while Cass flitted behind their bar-stools and smoothly glided around Bruce and behind Damian, wrapping both arms around his shoulders and pulling him to her front. He tried to shake her off but despite the grace of her movement her grip was steel. She leaned down and whispered something in his ear that Jason couldn’t hear but the kid still didn’t stop scowling.

Jason looked at Bruce from his place at the counter but all he could see was the back of his head and his stiff posture. He swallowed.

“Haven’t told me _what?”_

“Nothing.” Bruce shook his head, letting out a heavy sigh. “Damian, go to your room.”

He sputtered, practically bug eyed, _“what?_ I did not do anything-”

“We _talked about this._ And you know what you did. Now go.” He pointed, his arm straight out toward the doorway. “I need to speak with Jason now.” 

He sounded absolutely peeved and Jason could suddenly feel his pulse in his throat, hands fisting in his lap. Cass was sending looks flicking around the room, face blank, while Damian full on glowered and Alfred continued to look tiredly unimpressed, standing behind the two of them with his hands folded together. 

Cass tugged on Damian’s shoulders, pulling him back toward the exit and slipping around Alfred who stepped cautiously out of the way. 

“You are being an idiot,” Damian spat, while allowing himself to be dragged out of the room by Cass whose neutral face slipped into a small scowl before she reached up and flicked the back of his ear, making him flinch.

“Thank you for sharing your opinion,” Bruce said back, voice flat as Damian finally disappeared through the doorway. Jason heard the rustle of fabric and a sharp, _“ow,”_ before that faded too, followed by a thick silence. Bruce still stood there, facing away from him, hands now resting on his hips until he eventually turned back toward the counter. 

Jason watched him, uneasy, feeling his heart rate rise with each silent second while Bruce stared into the empty sink.

“Who’s ‘ _her’?_ What is he talking about?”

Bruce took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose and finally let go to look up at Jason, eyes conflicted.

“Bruce, _what.”_ His hands were clenched over his thighs, mind running over what any of that could have meant. _Was Talia there?_ His heart skipped a beat and he swallowed convulsively, the Pit flaring up enough to make him twitch.

“I was going to tell you, soon,” Bruce said quietly, eyes gone squinty as he crossed his arms. “It just didn’t seem like the right time after we talked yesterday.”

“Tell me _what?”_

He leaned his hip against the counter and Jason was absently aware of Alfred walking around the island and picking up Cass’s abandoned plate, taking it to the sink. Bruce just looked at him for a moment, scanning his face before he exhaled heavily and dropped his arms, one hand coming to rest flat on the counter.

“We got you a dog.”

“You-”

Jason blinked.

And then he blinked again.

Bruce took another deep breath and rushed on, “it was meant to be a surprise. For when we got back from your apartment yesterday.”

Jason opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

“But after-” Bruce stopped, rolling his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment. “After we talked about Talia, and our conversation at your place...it seemed like too much at once.”

Jason stared at him, and the silence dragged on, as Alfred shut off the faucet where he had been cleaning Cass’s plate and grabbed a dishtowel.

Bruce cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable. “I didn’t want you to feel like...I was trying to manipulate you,” he added, very quietly, eyes darting to the counter and back up. “So I made the decision to wait, and to talk to you about it later. You can say no, if it feels like too much right now. Damian, I’m sure, would be happy if you-”

 _“No,_ no,” Jason blurted, barely stopping himself from throwing out a hand. “I’m not saying no. I didn’t say that.”

Bruce let his mouth close slowly, the tension in his eyes dissolving gradually along with his stiff spine. “She would be yours. Completely.”

He almost scoffed a laugh, waiting for some kind of lecture on responsibility when Bruce continued, “she wouldn’t be tied to the manor. She would go wherever you do. I don’t want you to think that I’m...trying to trap you here.”

Jason felt his stomach squirm in surprise, rolling over itself before he swallowed and shook his head. “I don’t,” he said, just above a whisper.

Something was swelling in his chest and Bruce looked relieved, the last of his concern melting from his face as he nodded. “Good. That’s...good.”

“It’s a girl, then?” Jason asked, when the silence dragged, feeling that swell in his chest press in on his lungs.

Bruce blinked, nodded. “Yes.”

“Where is she?”

At this question, he looked briefly exasperated. “Tim is watching her for now. Alfred drove her over while we were loading up the car.”

Jason nodded along, Damian’s behavior suddenly made perfect sense. 

“Does she have a name?” He asked, almost embarrassed by the apparent longing in his voice.

Bruce’s mouth twitched, like he was suppressing a smile. “Not really. The shelter was calling her _Sweety._ But she’s only been there for a few weeks. They don’t know what her name was before, or if she had one.”

“Perhaps I might make a suggestion,” Alfred said, leaning with both hands on the counter and almost making Jason flinch. “Why don’t you drive Master Jason over to meet her? I was speaking with Timothy earlier today. He was working from home so he wouldn’t have to leave the poor dear alone, I’m sure he would be available. You can tell Jason all about her on the way.”

“Can we?” Jason asked when Bruce looked back toward him, blushing at how he sounded all of twelve years old.

“Of course.”

  
  


*

  
  


Bruce didn’t let Damian come with them.

He said it was because he disobeyed a direct order, (and then ignored a second one, when he sneaked back out of his room to listen to their conversation) but Jason thought it was probably more for Tim’s sake. Even Jason knew the kid wouldn’t be happy with the brat in his place, interrogating him about his care and keeping of the dog. Jason certainly hadn’t appreciated it to begin with.

He felt a little guilty to be glad over it, but he hadn’t been this excited about something in - he honestly couldn’t remember, and he knew the kid loved animals and he’d probably take all the pup’s attention, and it was _Jason’s_ dog.

“So, tell me about her,” he asked as they pulled out of the garage. He’d texted Tim to let him know that they were coming and received only a thumbs up in return. He’d sort of been hoping for a picture but at the same time, maybe the surprise was better.

Bruce was steadfastly holding back his smile as they turned out of the driveway and Jason rolled his eyes. “Come on, don’t give me that face. So I’m excited, I’ve wanted a dog since I was kid, you said it yourself.”

The smile finally broke free, along with a soft chuckle, and he tapped his thumbs against the steering wheel as his expression faded to something softer.

“I’m glad you’re excited.”

“Come _on_ Bruce, answer the question.” Jason pounded a fist against his armrest and Bruce huffed a breath through his nose and shook his head.

“She was a stray. She’s maybe four months old.”

“She’s still a puppy?” Jason’s voice was embarrassingly high and Bruce laughed out loud, shaking his head still.

“Yes, she’s still a puppy. She’s a mix of some sort, they think part Pitbull, but otherwise they aren’t sure. She’s a little skittish, pretty fearful of new people but she hasn’t bitten anyone at the shelter.” 

Jason nodded along, filing all of this away for his first meeting.

“She’s missing part of her right ear and has some sort of skin infection that’s made her lose some hair on her hind legs and hips. They gave us some ointment for it and she’ll have to stay in a cone for a few weeks until it goes away and the hair starts to come back in. She doesn’t like loud noises, but the staff said once she warmed up to them she was very sweet.

“She’s house trained, and will walk on a leash, but she gets nervous around other dogs. They think she’s young enough that she can still be socialized well but we’ll need to start soon. One of the volunteers taught her to sit and stay as well so they think she’s very trainable.”

Jason bounced his right foot on the floor of the car and bit his lip. “She still need stuff? Like food and toys and that kinda thing?”

“Some,” Bruce said as they made a wide turn through an intersection. “We went ahead and purchased the food the shelter suggested since she was very thin when she was brought in and she still needs to gain some weight. We also got her a bed and a harness and leash, since Tim has had to walk her. I figured you might want to pick out the toys and anything else.”

He nodded along, watching the gray skies go by through the window. He was excited. He was _really_ excited and then, very abruptly, he was extremely nervous.

It was a puppy. It wasn’t Titus. It wasn’t some giant, sturdy dog. It was a skittish puppy and it would probably chew on stuff and bark and irritate him sometimes and Jason wasn’t exactly _stable_ at the moment. 

“Are you sure…” Jason started, throat suddenly dry, forcing him to swallow loudly in the quiet car. Bruce glanced over as they slowed to a stop at a light.

“Am I sure…?”

Jason fiddled with the door lock. “I mean, a puppy’s kinda...fragile. I’m not- what if I lose it and the dog-” he choked on the rest of the sentence. The admission made him feel sick to his stomach. His palms were slick and he wished very badly he had thought of this before they were already on their way.

Bruce was silent for a long moment and when Jason chanced a glance over he was looking steadily out the windshield with a small frown. “I don’t think you need to be worried about that Jaylad,” he spoke slowly, watching traffic closely as they merged onto the freeway.

“Why not?” Jason genuinely wondered, because he really hoped it was something he could believe.

“...have you ever hurt an animal?” He formed the words very carefully, deliberately, and Jason felt itchy under the skin.

“I don’t know,” he said, a little breathless, “I’ve fought some of Man Bat’s...bat-guys before. A few animal-monster hybrids.”

Bruce seemed to consider this, nodding his head slowly.

“Any regular animals?”

Jason scratched at the back of his neck, uncomfortable and overly warm. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Bruce glanced over, before his eyes snapped back to the road.

Jason squirmed in his seat. “I mean...I wanna say no. But there’s stuff...there’s things I don’t really remember, from my time with the league.” 

It slipped out quietly, an under the breath confession that he could see the exact moment Bruce registered. He prayed he didn’t ask him anymore questions about it. Not now, not while they were doing _this._

Bruce, thankfully, didn’t comment on it. “But there’s no time that you can remember anything happening.”

“No…” He was really damn thankful for it too. There was enough death in his head without adding innocent animals to the mix.

“Then I don’t think you need to worry about it.” Bruce was calm and he sounded entirely reasonable and confident as he continued, “If even when you were…” he pressed his lips thin for a moment, pausing in thought, “when you were the furthest removed from who you are now, you never hurt someone’s dog, or cat or otherwise, I don’t think it’s something to be concerned about.”

Jason frowned, slouching lower in his seat. “That’s not exactly fool proof reasoning.”

“Maybe not...but, if even when you had the least amount of control you managed to never do something like that, even in a city like this one, where every drug dealer has a guard dog or worse, then I think it’s a small risk. We all know the things to look out for now.” Bruce looked over at him then, for longer than was probably safe, while driving. “You aren’t some sort of sleeper cell, it’s not going to overtake you with no warning. If you don’t feel safe you can remove yourself from the situation or one of us can get the dog out.”

“It could if I have a nightmare,” Jason almost whispered, thinking about waking up gasping, with the urge to do nothing more than grab his gun and find someone who deserved it.

Eyes back on the road, Bruce’s frown deepened. “Did you ever worry you would hurt Titus?”

He wished he could say no but his stomach only sank. “Once...the day before you guys...before you found me.”

Bruce let out a loud breath through his nose, “Jason, you were going into _sepsis._ Your mind was not what it normally is.”

“And it’s not going to _stay_ what it normally is!” His voice was loud in the small space, enough to hurt his own ears and he sank even lower in his seat, feeling shame crawl up his neck and heat his face.

Bruce frowned harder, if it were possible, as he changed lanes toward their exit. “I disagree.”

“You don’t know-”

“I know I don’t, but we are going to find a solution. And even if it does get worse for a while, we can deal with that then.”

“A dog’s not gonna fucking cure me.” Jason wished he could take the words back as soon as they were out of his mouth. It was a _stupid_ thing to say, and he was _excited_ about this, before his brain punched a giant hole in the middle of the idea.

There was a flash of upset on Bruce’s face before his expression smoothed out again. When he spoke his voice was low and controlled, “I know that. But I think you have a tendency to see the worst possible outcome,” his mouth twisted down on one side when he glanced over again, their car moving smoothly down the exit ramp. “I’m the same way, and I’m sure I haven’t helped in the past.”

Jason swallowed, remembering Dick’s words from the day before and closing his eyes for a brief second. They were both right. His mind was circling a good thing like a snake, ready to choke the life out of it at the first sign of weakness.

Bruce was quiet for a moment, waiting until Jason opened his eyes before he spoke again. “It was Damian’s idea, to get the dog. I wasn’t sure.”

He wasn’t exactly surprised by the statement, but it still hit him in the chest how much the kid was like _him_ when he was that age. All prickly sharp edges, ready to gut someone if the situation called for it, sometimes even if it didn’t. But soft in a way most people didn’t understand. 

“So what convinced you?” Jason asked, picking at his seatbelt, wondering if he could keep asking himself, _what if things work out?_ anymore times that day, because he didn’t think so.

“I...spoke to my therapist about it.”

Jason looked up, startled by the blatant reference. He hadn’t acknowledged it even when Jason had thrown it in his face the day before.

“I was worried you were too…stressed. That the responsibility would only make it worse. But I told her what Damian said, and what we’d all noticed; that you seemed attached to Titus, and Titus to you. She thought it was a good idea.” 

The car slowed as they rounded a corner and Jason felt the momentum pull him against the door. “She did?”

Bruce nodded. “I thought perhaps a fully trained dog would be a better idea than adopting from a shelter. One that could...identify signs of anxiety, and other things.” He stepped around his words carefully, practically tiptoeing to avoid saying the wrong thing. “She said it would be difficult to find one that wasn’t already spoken for, most likely. It’s a very specialized profession and if we wanted one that came fully trained it would likely be months before we could actually take one home. And she said that it could help...that it could _help._ Just the act of caring for another living thing that needs you. Especially one that you can help heal.

“She also said it could increase the bond between owner and pet if you do some training with them yourself. She recommended some classes actually...with professional trainers. If you want to check them out.”

Jason tried to mull all of that over. The fact that Bruce talked about him during his therapy sessions and not because he was frustrated or angry. That he was telling him at all. That getting a dog was apparently a therapist sanctioned _‘good move’_ in his case. 

That it was so obvious that Jason was messed up in the head in more ways than just the Pit. 

Any other time he might be upset over it; the implication that he wasn’t ok. But Bruce already knew he was struggling and Jason really couldn’t deny it anymore. 

“She really said all that?” He dropped his hands into his lap, releasing the seat-belt and staring out the windshield. 

“She did.” Bruce smoothly pulled the car over, parking in a parallel spot next to an old newspaper vending machine. He turned the car off but he didn’t make a move to unbuckle or open the door, even though they were sitting right outside Tim’s building. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Jason asked then, the question niggling at the back of his mind ever since Dick let it slip a week before.

Bruce looked over, hands resting on his thighs. “Tell you what?”

“That you were, you know. Seeing a therapist.”

He hesitated in response, taking a deep breath and staring out the window past Jason, eyes tracking something down the sidewalk behind him. “There wasn’t a time it seemed appropriate to bring up. I didn’t want you to think I was doing it for show, or to…” his eyes drew back through the car again, until they landed on his hands, resting in his lap. 

“To manipulate me,” Jason finished, a weird sort of somersaulting in his gut.

Bruce looked sad, eyebrows drawing down and hands reaching up to grip the wheel. “I know I’ve done things like that before,” he said very softly. “I wanted this to be different.”

Jason swallowed, let his body sink into the seat back and looked out the windshield at the little patter of rain starting to come down; ice crystals sprinkled through, leaving slush on the glass. 

“I believe you,” he said, reaching down and unlatching his seat-belt. “It feels different.”

Bruce followed his lead, letting his belt pull back into the ceiling and unlocking the doors. 

“If only it didn’t take all this other shit to get us here,” Jason joked, unable to take another heavy silence.

Before he could open his door though, Bruce leaned over. He reached up with his right hand and gripped the back of Jason’s neck and gently tilted his head down, lips pressing firmly to the crown of his head before he released his grip. He kept his hand there though, a soft weight when he pulled back and looked Jason directly in the eye. “We’ll figure it out.”

Jason nodded, unable to speak. Finally, he pulled back enough that Bruce let his hand drop and he could clear the lump from his throat. “Now enough with the chit chat,” he said, voice rough. “I wanna meet my new dog.”

Before Bruce could respond Jason opened his door, slipping out into the brisk chill and spattering rain and slush. He hunched his shoulders up to his ears and rushed to the door, hitting the buzzer three times in quick, short bursts. Bruce was behind him in a moment and as soon as they heard the click of the lock on the main door disengage Jason yanked it open.

The elevator ride was agonizingly slow and Jason still couldn’t believe Tim had set up such an elaborate headquarters in the middle of the city. Of course he had to live on the very top floor.

He was still nervous, but not quite like the sudden spike of fear and doubt that had hit him in the car. His palms were sweaty with anticipation and he wiped them on his pants, feeling like he was about to meet a blind date or something.

When they stepped out of the elevator onto Tim’s floor, he wasn’t there to greet them. Instead, they heard him call from another room, _“I’m in here.”_

Jason hesitated for a split second before he followed the voice, rounding a corner to Tim’s open living space to find him sitting on his couch with his legs stretched out on the seat and a puppy curled up between him and the backrest. 

“Hey,” he said, waving one hand with a half smile, laptop propped open on his legs. The puppy raised its head, floppy ears perking up, inside a flexible, navy blue cone with bright red apples printed on the sides. 

“Hey,” Jason returned, stopping in the doorway as Bruce came up beside him. There was an odd pause before Tim shut his laptop and sat up a little more, setting it to the side and curling his legs up to sit criss-cross. The movement was enough to expose the puppy just a little, from where she’d been mostly hidden behind his legs and Jason could see she was too skinny, especially when she moved to sit up, chest and belly showing.

He could feel both Tim and Bruce staring at him and Tim put a hand on her back, petting gently down a bony spine. She looked back at Tim, ears flopping sideways, before immediately going back to staring at the newcomers in the doorway.

“....are you going to go say hello?” Bruce asked, sounding amused.

Jason scowled, taking a step into the room. “Hey, you said she was skittish, I don’t want to freak her out.” 

Bruce raised his hands, in mock surrender and Tim gave a quiet laugh. 

“You can say hello, just go slow. Took her a couple hours to warm up to me yesterday but now we’re buddies.” He put his hand out then, where she could see it around the cone and she licked at it, tail thumping against the back of the couch.

Jason came forward, toeing his shoes off near the doorway and continuing on socked feet. He knelt down when he got near the couch, shuffling up on his knees and putting a hand out, slowly, where she could smell it. 

She was dark brown and black, a brindle pattern, if Jason remembered the name right, with a white smudge around her nose and down her chest and stomach, with floppy ears and a long, whip like tail, a square head and a short snout. He could see the Pitbull like they said. 

“She part Boxer, maybe?” Jason asked, keeping his voice low, letting his arm rest on the couch cushion when she didn’t immediately come up to him. 

“That’s probably a good guess,” Bruce said from behind him, folding himself down until he sat cross legged on the floor. 

Tim nodded, still stroking down her back, “they just said she was some kind of Bully mix, but they weren’t sure.” 

Jason nodded, inching his hand closer across the cushions. She shrank back just a little, ears down, head lowered.

“Hey, it’s ok, I’m a nice guy,” Jason said, sitting back on his heels, leaning his upper body against the couch and giving Tim a half hearted glare when he snorted at the soft tone of his voice. 

Very slowly, she stretched her neck out and sniffed cautiously at his hand, giving it a tiny lick, making Jason’s mouth quark up on the side. 

“How you feeling Apples? That cone looks like a pain,” he kept his voice soft, letting out a stream of whatever came into his head to try to put the animal at ease. She was still tucked behind Tim’s knees up against the couch. 

“Yeah, they said she’ll be in it for a couple more weeks probably, until the rest of the scabs heal up. There’s some ointment for it with her stuff.”

Tim jerked his chin toward the end of the couch, where a dog bed and a bag of food sat next to a plastic grocery bag. Jason hesitated, “there any dog treats in there?”

“Oh,” Tim blinked, “yeah, they gave us a little bag of them at the shelter.” 

Jason nodded, drawing his hand back and scooting down to it, checking its contents and finding just what he was looking for. They were peanut butter flavored and as soon as the bag crinkled he saw the pup’s ears perk up.

First he put one in the center of his palm, and set his hand down flat on the couch, just a little ways away. Very slowly, she crawled out from behind Tim, half crouched. Her cone dragged on the fabric of the cushions and she jerked her head a little, like it startled her. But cautiously, with her tail tucked down, she made her way to Jason, sniffing carefully at his hand and very gently taking the treat before she immediately retreated back to her place next to Tim.

“Aw, you’re killing me Apples.”

Tim gave an eye roll and smoothed his hand down her back a few more times before his attention was drawn to Bruce, and they started chatting about other things. Jason wasn’t listening, more focused on the pup than either of them.

She had brown eyes she didn’t take off him, even when the treat was gone, but there was a peak of interest there now. 

It took two more treats, before she stopped going back to Tim, and laid down by his hand while she munched on her snack. He let her sniff him again, this time with a little more interest and then he very carefully reached around the cone and settled a hand on her back. She flinched a little, trying to turn back and see him.

“It’s ok, it’s ok,” he soothed, scratching gently through the fur between her shoulder blades. “I know, it’s scary huh, you can’t see around that thing. That’d make me nervous too.” Carefully he slipped his fingers under the edge of it where it was attached with velcro around her neck and rubbed. 

The reaction was immediate, she tilted her head sideways and stretched out her neck and her back foot did a jittering thump against the couch. Jason chuckled, pulling his hand back and letting her smell him again. She licked at his hand, and this time he reached under her chin, inside the cone, and smoothed over the soft fuzz on her cheeks. Her tongue flicked out sideways and left a wet streak up his wrist and he couldn’t stop the little laugh that bubbled out of his chest. 

Big brown eyes looking up at him with caution, and something he could swear was _hope_ ; he was a goner already. 

“Here,” Tim said, unfolding his legs and setting his feet on the floor, “I’ll put her down.”

“You don’t need-” Jason started, as Tim put both hands under her armpits and gently pulled her off the couch and set her on the floor. 

“She’ll be fine, she’ll get used to you faster if I’m not right there.” 

Jason frowned when she immediately backed up to the couch, tail tucked under, but he was probably right. So he scooted himself around to the other side of the coffee table, bag of treats still in hand, and laid on the floor. 

Bruce glanced at him, but didn’t say anything, turning back to Tim and continuing whatever conversation they were having. Probably something about work, he wasn’t paying any attention. Instead he pulled out another treat and set it on his chest, turning his head to watch the puppy who was clearly staring at him, though she was still curled up by the couch. 

“Come on,” he coaxed, patting at his chest, “it’s ok, got a treat for you.” He reached out a hand, half under the table that she slowly crawled toward it, sniffing at him again before very cautiously coming out from under the other side. There was a set back when she got close and the cone ran into his side, pulling her head down and startling her enough she immediately scampered back under the table.

“Hey no- aw, Apples.” He let out a sigh, grabbing the treat off his chest and holding it out under the coffee table, she watched longer this time, nose twitching in the air for a moment more before she moved back toward him. He drew the treat away, closer to him with each step until she hit the edge of the table and stopped. Her eyes darted to above Jason’s head and he glanced up to see Bruce still sitting there on the floor, like some kindergarten teacher.

“B.”

“Hn?” He glanced down, at Jason and then the dog.

“You’re making her nervous, move.” 

He huffed a breath in return, rolling his eyes before he smoothly got up from the floor and stepped over Jason, going to sit on the couch instead. Jason watched her big brown eyes follow Bruce across the floor until they came back to him and she slowly inched back out from under the table. 

“There you go, come on, I’m nice, don’t I seem nice?” He pulled the treat away, just a little further, until his hand was hovering above his chest and he set it down. She hesitated at his side, but then carefully put her paws on his chest and reached for it, snatching it back and taking it under the table to eat. 

“Don’t give her too many of those,” Bruce warned, though his voice was warm. “It could make her sick.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Jason waved him off, “just one more.”

And surprisingly, that was all it took. The next time she came out a little more easily, propped her feet on his chest to take the treat and then just - settled there, half laying on him, paws on his chest as she chewed, dropping crumbs on his clothes. Jason blinked, hovering a hand over her back before letting it settle there, scratching up under the cone and laughing a little huskily at the way she’d stretch her neck out. 

“You said it took you a few hours to get her to warm up to you?” Jason asked, smoothing a hand down her bony spine, craning his neck to try to get a look at the irritated skin on her legs. 

When he glanced up Tim grimaced.

“Well, it probably would have been faster, but she peed in the kitchen pretty much right when we got here and then wouldn’t come near me for forever.” 

Jason looked back at the dog, reaching his other hand up to let her lick at his fingers. Her tail wagged softly across the carpet and Jason felt something go tight and painful in his chest. 

They’d said she was a stray, nobody knew where she came from. 

Jason had been a stray once too. “You don’t gotta worry about that here,” he whispered, quiet enough that Bruce and Tim wouldn’t hear him. “Nobody’s gonna hurt you ever again, ok?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS for a brief discussion about hypothetical harm to animals. Nothing happens and nothing is discussed in detail but it comes up!!
> 
> ______________
> 
> We've finally made it friends, to the thing you've all been waiting for <333 THE REWARD FOR YOUR OUTSTANDING PATIENCE. Have some incredibly schmoopy fluff. You're welcome. 😂 
> 
> Anyway....I hope this was satisfying to read!!! I thought about going the full therapy dog route but I really....I really just wanted to give Jason a little stray puppy he could bond with so....here we are. 
> 
> Please comment if you enjoyed and feel up to it!! 😊
> 
> Title from Saturday Sun by Vance Joy


	28. What comes after this momentary bliss?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are nice, Jason has a new puppy, he's settling in at the manor, it's going pretty good...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings!

They ended up staying into dinner time.

Jason didn’t want to leave with her before she was decently comfortable with both him and Bruce and without using more treats it was decidedly more difficult to get her interested in Bruce.

“I get you Apples,” Jason said, taking a bite of an egg roll from their takeout and watching her hesitantly sniff at Bruce’s hand. “He’s hard to read.” 

Tim snorted, chopsticks halfway to his mouth. “Is that what you’re calling her? _Apples?”_

Jason shrugged, gesturing to the flexible cone printed in them still around her neck. “I think it suits her.” 

Tim shook his head and mumbled under his breath, “beats _Alfred_ I guess.” 

Bruce made a noise halfway between a cough and a laugh and picked a piece of chicken out of his noodles and held it over his lap, peaking Apples’ interest immediately. 

“Gave up on doing it the hard way huh?” 

“Bribery has shown itself to be an effective strategy,” He said, easing his hand around the cone and gently scratching at her neck, the same way Jason had, until she was half falling over trying to get that perfect angle. 

It was pitch dark outside and freezing by the time they left. It took a few extra minutes to coax the pup into her harness, and they ended up having Tim do it, since he’d already managed it once and she did a little better then. As soon as they were in the elevator though, she was nervous again, tucking her tail down and practically wrapping her leash around Jason’s legs trying to get behind him. 

“It’s alright,” he soothed, crouching next to her and petting down her back. Bruce held her bed and the bag of dog food, while Jason just had the grocery bag with her ointment and treats in it. She was just as nervous about the car as she had been in the elevator but once Jason was in his seat and she could curl up on the floor between his feet, she did ok.

He tried to get her in his lap at one point but she didn’t seem inclined. 

It was just a little ways into the drive back, Jason still fully focused on the puppy between his feet, that Bruce spoke.

“I heard back from Constantine.”

Jason glanced up, eyes wide, bent over and hand paused halfway down Apples’ spine. 

“He said he could probably stop by in a couple days, since Zatanna’s still unavailable.”

He sounded calm as could be when he said it, turning the wheel around a curve in the road as Jason watched street lights move across the interior of the car, casting him in ever shifting shadows. 

When Jason didn’t say anything, Bruce looked over. “I wanted to make sure that was still alright with you, and give you a warning. If we say yes he’s not likely to give much notice before he shows up.”

“No, yeah, that’s…” Jason swallowed, sitting back up a little, stomach suddenly bursting with butterflies. “That’s fine,” he finally said, forcing the words out. Better sooner than later, the timing was important. 

Bruce nodded, expression serious, “alright, I’ll give him the go ahead then.” 

Jason licked his lips, glancing down at Apples curled up at his feet, almost unseen in the dark of the car. 

Damian would take care of her, if Jason...if he couldn’t. But suddenly it felt somehow more important that he fix this. He didn’t want to move her around, or confuse her even more, going from the street, after she came from who knew where, to a shelter with a bunch of different people and dogs, and then to Tim’s, and now to him. 

He wanted her to feel safe. 

He leaned back in his seat, staring out the windows as storefronts passed by, their insides lit up against the dark, like televisions all playing different channels. 

“Hey, is that a pet store?”

Bruce glanced over as he slowed at a traffic light. 

“Can we stop?”

“You want to stop _now?”_ He glanced at the clock, shining bright neon numbers.

“Might as well, right? She needs a sweater and stuff, for the cold.” 

Bruce didn’t say anything for a moment, but he put his blinker on, changing lanes when the light turned and flipping a U-turn to park right out front of the store. 

Of course then Jason hesitated. Because he couldn’t bring her inside, she’d freak out, but-

“I’ll stay with her, if you want to pick some things out.” Jason glanced over, shifting his feet just enough that Apples moved to sit up, wagging her tail lightly when he looked down at her. 

“Ok,” he said quietly, unlatching his seat-belt and opening the door. When he slipped to the sidewalk Apples quickly stood up and Jason stopped again, before making the decision to quickly hoist her onto his seat. She squirmed a little, but settled as soon as he let her go. “It’s heated, and she’ll feel better if she can see you,” he explained, needlessly it seemed, for the way Bruce looked soft around the eyes. 

He started, finally, to step away from the car and close the door to the cold, outside air when he stopped, feeling himself flush. 

“Uh...I didn’t...bring my wallet.” 

Bruce huffed an amused breath and reached for his back pocket, a half smirk playing across his mouth when he leaned over and handed the whole thing to him. “There should be enough cash for whatever you need, but if not, you can use my Visa.” 

Jason nodded, cheeks warm against the chill in the air. “Thanks,” he said in a rush of breath before he shut the door, watching Apples head poke up in the window a split second later, cone obscuring half her face. 

He ducked inside the door quickly, shivering from the cold air. A bell jingled as he entered and someone greeted him from behind the front counter. He gave a quick jerk of a nod and then just sort of stood there for a minute, not sure exactly what he was doing. The idea had been exciting, to stop and get stuff for _his dog_. But he had no plan, beyond a jacket.

“Did you need help finding anything?” A teen girl wearing an apron with her hair tied back asked him, setting a bag of pet food on the counter. 

“Uh…” Jason stared at the rows of shelves, stacked high with things he didn’t recognize and suddenly felt overwhelmed. He swallowed. “Yeah maybe…”

She came around the counter, eyes friendly and hands folded in front of her. “What are you looking for?”

“Well," he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, "my...my dad bought me a dog, and she’s got a bed, and food, and a harness, and leash but...that’s pretty much it.”

She had a streak of blue in her hair, he noticed, and seemed to light up immediately.

“Oh! That means you get to shop for the fun stuff! I’ll show you where it is. Here, you should grab a cart.”

She motioned toward the entrance, where he had walked straight passed some on his way in. 

It was easier, after that, to gain back some of his enthusiasm as she started asking him questions about the puppy, pointing things out as they went and explaining their purpose. 

As Jason explained where she came from, and why he hadn’t brought her inside, he was suddenly being gushed over. The girl called over another employee, an older woman with a heavy set frame and tight, curly hair. 

“Ona, his dad got him a puppy from a shelter and she used to be a stray and she’s skittish and underweight,” the way she said it, it sounded like she was near fake tears, and Jason raised his eyebrows when the other woman gave a tiny gasp. 

“This is it, this is my calling, it’s time to spoil a puppy.” 

Jason gave a startled bark of laughter, hands tucked in his pockets, and allowed himself to be led around the store, dumping whatever was suggested in the cart without thinking twice. He spent more time probably than he’d initially meant to, but he realized, as he was wheeling the cart to the front, it was the first time he’d been…. _anywhere_ in public in weeks. 

The thought brought on memories of the last few times he’d been out, of standing in line with Titus while he mentally catalogued every weakness, counting casualties in his head as sweat broke out on his palms.

“I’m so excited for you,” the younger girl said, as she started unloading his cart.

“Promise you’ll bring her back here, when she’s not so nervous? I want to meet her,” she paused, dog toy held in both hands. Then she lowered her voice, leaning over the counter, “that’s the only reason I work here. I feel cheated when people come in without their pets.” 

Jason forced a laugh, rubbing at his chest to loosen up the sudden tightness, “yeah, sure,” he said, taking a deep breath, trying to clear the thought from his head. “I’ll bring my little brother.” 

She nodded, going back to ringing him up. “That’s all I ask.” 

They both wished him a good night, and wished Apples well when he walked out, arms loaded down with way more stuff than he had been expecting when he went in. 

Somehow though, Bruce didn’t look surprised when he saw him through the window, just pushed a button on the dash so the back hatch opened up and Jason could load everything in the trunk. He did give him an amused smile when he got back in the car. “Find everything you need?”

“Shut up,” Jason grumbled, carefully scooping Apples off the seat and into his lap. She stiffened up at first, and he was briefly concerned she’d try to scramble off him but after a few gentle strokes down her back she settled, leaning back against his stomach. 

Bruce pulled away from the curb slowly and they drove in a comfortable silence that Jason tried to relax into. It was hard though, when he kept feeling Bruce’s gaze flick to him and away again.

“What?” He finally asked, making a conscious effort not to snap when he said it. 

“Hm?” Bruce asked, eyes skipping back to the road, as if he didn’t know what Jason was talking about.

“You keep looking at me.” 

There was a soft quiet this time, something Jason thought felt almost nervous.

“It’s…” he trailed off for a moment, and Jason watched him, leaning up against the passenger door and observing the way his jaw worked, even though no words came out. “It’s nice,” he finally said, voice quiet, steadfastly staring straight ahead, “to have you here.” 

Jason swallowed, turning away to stare out his own window, forehead pressed against cold glass. Apples shifted around, bony little elbows poking him in the legs as she laid herself down in his lap. He brushed his open palm over her back, soft, velvet fur sliding over his skin. 

Part of him wanted to say something stupid back, some argumentative bullshit, like it was somehow a reminder Bruce needed that Jason wasn’t just good and happy now. That just because he’d had a good evening didn’t mean the Pit wasn’t still an ever present issue that he could still feel right then, if he paid attention. 

But a bigger part of him felt a little like someone had just cracked his chest open like an egg and his insides were sluggishly leaking out. He didn’t say anything back. Didn’t think he had words to respond with, just kept smoothing a hand down the puppy’s back and thinking, _things could be like this, if they work out._

  
  


_*_

  
  


After they’d unloaded the car, Jason figured he should try to acquaint the puppy with the manor. 

He took her outside first, let her have a bathroom break so there would be no repeat of what happened at Tim’s apartment. He tried to carry her at a couple points but she squirmed so hard anytime he picked her up he was afraid he’d drop her. It didn’t end up being necessary though since she stuck close to his heels after that, following him through the manor without a word from him.

First he took her to his room, his new one - or rather, his old one, where Bruce had left her bed next to his own and he sat on the floor, back against the wall, and let her slowly sniff the place out, gradually increasing the distance between them. 

He left the door just cracked, which is how he found Damian lurking like a little stalker in the hallway, eye to the gap in the door. Jason snorted, choking on a laugh that only got louder when he heard Cass’s answering giggle from behind the kid. She pushed the door open then, arm coming up around his shoulders and alerting the puppy, who quickly retreated back to him, scrambling half into his lap. 

Damian glared at her as she slipped around him and into the room, gracefully folding herself onto the floor a few feet away without a word while he kept standing in the doorway, stiff as a statue. His eyes roamed the room, cataloguing the place possibly for the first time, Jason realized. 

“You can come in, Brat,” Jason finally said, raising a hand to motion him inside. 

Much more slowly than Cass, Damian shuffled over the carpet with a pinched expression. He knelt down slightly closer than Cass, sitting back on his heels in perfect form. 

“Have you chosen a name yet?” he asked, voice low, “it will be good to begin using it as quickly as possible, to familiarize her with it.” 

Jason reached his thumb and index finger under the edge of the cone and scratched gently, getting that same reaction every time, like the thing must be driving her crazy. “Apples.”

Cass’s eyes lit up, a grin spreading across her face while Damian wrinkled his nose.

“How...apt.” 

Jason snorted, “I thought so. You can come closer.” He motioned to both of them, sitting up a little straighter. Damian took the initiative this time, shuffling forward on his knees and holding a hand out low for her to sniff. Once again, she shrank back, pulling away from Jason even to tuck herself against the wall. There was no missing the flash of disappointment on the kid’s face.

“She’ll come around,” Jason said, “I’d let you give her some treats but I think I already maxed her out for the night.” 

“Yes,” he nodded, “it is best to limit treats.”

“There’s some toys though, in that bag.” He motioned to the grocery bag sitting on the foot of his bed and Damian climbed up to get them, looking through the bag with clear distaste before he finally pulled out a bright yellow, plush star with a green sticker that said _squeeze!_

He seemed unconvinced but the high pitched noise it let out when he pressed the sides did catch Apples’ attention. Her ears perked up, and she uncurled herself from the wall, stretching her neck out and sniffing at the air. 

Unfortunately, the noise didn’t just catch Apples’ attention. Two more obnoxious squeaks later and Titus came trotting into the room, ears up in interest. 

Jason had a split second to remember Bruce saying she was nervous around other dogs before she vanished under the bed with a high pitched growl and her tail between her legs. It was the first noise he’d heard from her so far and if it wasn’t obviously out of fear he would have thought it was cute. 

_“Dames,”_ Jason bit out, reaching for her before he could stop himself, but too late anyway.

And of course as soon as Titus heard the puppy _that_ was his new big interest. Damian snagged him by the collar before he could stuff his nose under the bed, trying to greet his new _friend_. 

“ _No Titus,”_ He pulled back, clearly a little flustered, “I will take him to the den.”

_“Yep, sounds good,”_ Jason said, voice tight, trying not to sound angry because it wasn’t the kid’s fault but he could just make out the shadow of his new puppy shaking under the bed.

“Hey, it’s ok, see, the big guys leaving, and he’s nice anyway.” 

Cass was silent behind him while Damian quietly dragged Titus out of the room and closed the door.

“He is kinda huge though, I can see why that’d make you nervous.” He flattened himself onto his stomach, just able to fit his head under the bed frame and reach out a hand toward her. “It’s ok, he’s gone now, c’mere, you’re ok.” 

It took a few minutes of effort, even an offered treat (against his better judgement,) was largely ignored until he’d talked himself into a dry throat half whispering nonsense that was supposed to sound friendly and _safe_ for her to come out. But eventually, very slowly, she inched her way back toward him, crawling on her belly, until she could lick at his hand and take the treat. She ate it right there, but finally crawled back out from under the bed when she was done, cautiously peeking her head out before Jason could coax her back to him. 

She didn’t seem inclined to explore anymore after that, just curled up in his lap with her nose pressed into his stomach. Jason glanced up at Cass, who was quietly watching the whole thing without comment. 

“Sorry,” he said, one hand resting on the puppy’s back, “not as fun as you thought it’d be probably.”

Cass shook her head, “No, it’s good to learn. She is scared.” And there was a little sympathetic crease between her eyebrows.

“Yeah,” Jason sighed, “she’s skittish, but she’ll come around…. takes time to feel safe, you know.” He shrugged. 

Cass nodded, “like you,” she said, like this made perfect sense.

“Like me?” he raised an eyebrow, brushing a thumb back and forth over soft puppy fur.

She stared at him for a moment, and Jason couldn’t tell what she was thinking, if she was trying to gather the right words or just couldn’t believe he didn’t know what she meant, but after a short pause she answered, a little haltingly. “You were afraid. Wanted to tell you not to be, but knew you wouldn’t listen. Takes time. You are still nervous, but it’s better. I’m glad.”

She scooted just a little bit closer, eyes darting down to the puppy. “I'm happy you’re here. Happy to have…” she glanced up, “more family.”

Jason stared, hands going still and feeling the air leave him like a vacuum. His mouth felt like a desert, completely dried up of words.

He looked down, at the puppy in his lap as she curled her body a little tighter, shifting around and shaking her head, irritated by the cone. There were a million things he could have said back, namely something simple maybe, like _me too,_ or _I’m glad,_ but those didn’t come either. When he looked back up at her though, she smiled, small and soft and Jason thought, for the first time, that what she could do was nice too. Maybe a little embarrassing - but _nice._

  
  


_*_

  
  


There was a bed on the floor of his room for Apples, but Jason already knew it would go largely ignored. Maybe he’d move it into the den instead, because he wasn’t making her sleep down there by herself on her first night in a big, new, scary place. 

And he knew, of course, once she got used to sleeping in his bed he wouldn’t have the heart to make her stop. 

That night he got ready for bed, lifted Apples onto the comforter, which she didn’t like, wiggling like crazy until he set her down, and then he grabbed the tube of ointment for her skin off his nightstand. It did _not_ smell good, was the first thing he noticed. As soon as he squeezed the tube there was a strong medicinal scent that had the puppy’s ears immediately down and back.

Jason huffed a breath, frowning at her big, sad eyes when a soft knock at his bedroom door interrupted their silent showdown. 

“You can come in,” Jason said, projecting his voice just enough to be heard through the door.

It opened slowly to Bruce, who eyed the scene before him for a moment, of Jason standing next to the bed, the tube of ointment in one hand, the cap off and held in his other while Apples sat, half cowering on the bed. 

“I don’t think she likes this stuff,” Jason greeted as Bruce slowly walked over.

The puppy eyed Bruce only for a moment before crawling across the bed to him, ears and tail still tucked down. 

Jason scoffed out a betrayed noise and Bruce breathed a laugh through his nose. “Here, I’ll do it, you can hold her when I put it on.” he held out a hand for the tube but Jason hesitated.

“I mean, I feel like I should do it.” It was _his_ puppy after all, even if he hated making her nervous or scared, it was to help in the end, and it wouldn’t actually hurt her, he knew.

Bruce let his hand lower, allowing Apples to sniff at him and running a hand down her back when she sat down, almost pressed up against him. 

“Maybe down the road,” he said, after a pause, “once she’s more comfortable, but I think at first it would be good for her to have a safe person, and that should be you.” 

Jason only hesitated for a second more before handing over the ointment and crawling onto the bed. He sort of felt like Bruce was bullshitting him, but it was something of a relief to not have to be the one to do it. Instead he sat with one leg curled in and the other straight out and patted his thigh. 

It took very little encouragement. As soon as the tube was in Bruce’s hand she wanted nothing to do with him and quickly went and curled up in Jason’s lap instead. 

Bruce sat on the edge of the bed and squeezed a small dab onto his finger. 

It was still unpleasant, and Jason had to hold her still and help arrange her limbs a couple times so Bruce could get at the irritated skin on the backs of her legs but it wasn’t so traumatizing as he’d feared. Mostly she just sulked. 

As soon as the cap was back on the tube she got up off his lap and went and laid down at the other end of the bed, facing away from them. 

“Aw don’t be like that,” Jason half laughed, patting at his leg. She ignored him, curling more tightly in a ball like she wanted nothing more than to tell him to _leave her alone._

“She’ll get over it,” Bruce said, amused. 

“Yeah, yeah.” 

A quiet fell between them, both of them watching Apples instead of each other. 

“I let Constantine know it was alright to stop by when he’s next available.”

“Oh,” Jason blinked, suddenly nervous. “Did he say when he was thinking…?”

“No,” Bruce answered, “he’s not one to commit to anything, but I would say within the next few days most likely.”

Jason nodded, letting that sink in for a moment. Then Bruce cleared his throat a little obviously and Jason looked over, cautious.

“I have another appointment tomorrow morning. But I was hoping after, we could meet again, for meditation. If you still want to try it, that is.”

Jason blinked, a little in surprise, before his brain caught up to the sentence. 

“Appointment….like…” He trailed off, and Bruce shifted slightly on the bed, obviously understanding what he was asking. Jason felt himself flush, thinking, _stupid, don’t make it weird._

“I’m meeting with my therapist, yes.”

“Oh.”

The silence hung in the air, thick enough it was hard to breathe around before he cleared his throat.

“Yeah, we can meet up tomorrow, after your appointment.” 

Bruce nodded. “Alright,” he said, “I should be back around 11:30.”

And then he looked around the room, taking a deep, slow breath in like he was just remembering where they were. “I should get ready for tonight.” He looked over as he lifted himself up off the bed. “Goodnight Jay, get some sleep.”

“Yeah, goodnight,” Jason echoed back, watching him go. He switched the light off before he shut the door, and Jason sat there for a moment, nothing but moonlight cast across the floor, before he finally pushed himself up to the head of the bed, pulling the covers back and crawling in. He flicked his lamp on, picked the book he was reading up from the nightstand, and let himself relax as much as he could while constantly checking on Apples, still sulking at the end of the bed. 

She ignored him for a good long while. Long enough that he eventually got sucked into the book and was no longer glancing up every 30 seconds. So it came as a surprise when he felt the blanket tug against him and he looked up to find her slowly walking toward him until she curled up next to his hip, fussing around until the cone finally laid flat in a way that was apparently slightly more comfortable. 

He kept reading, one hand reaching out and absently trailing down the puppy’s back until tiny, soft snores filled the air. 

He wasn’t _unconcerned_ about the things he’d talked to Bruce about in the car, on their way to Tim’s apartment. But he did recount what he’d said, as a reminder. There was no reason to think things would be different, or worse now than they were directly after the Pit. 

And with a good book, the yellow glow of his lamp, and soft puppy snores in the air, it was easy enough to believe it for now.

  
  


*

  
  


The next morning Jason was greeted by a torrent of text messages, all requesting pictures of the puppy. He mostly spent it carefully planning where Titus would be with Alfred, and maneuvering Apples so they wouldn’t cross paths.

She did not like being put in a harness, or the little rain jacket he’d gotten at the pet store but once she was in the gear she walked happily enough on the leash and seemed interested in the outdoors. Breakfast was another exciting time for Apples and he even got a tiny _woof_ when he was filling her bowl, tail whipping across the floor. 

Watching her eat with the cone on was pretty damn endearing too, he took a video of her pushing the bowl across the floor until she finally hit the edge of a cabinet and stayed in place. 

Cass appeared and disappeared quickly then, flashing a pleased smile at Apples and Jason, grabbing a granola bar and vanishing before the puppy could even get nervous.

Bruce joined them in the kitchen briefly, when he got back from his appointment, and then they spent some ten minutes trying to get her to like Alfred.

“I am not offended if the puppy does not wish to be friends at the moment. She has quite enough change going on and Master Damian and the others will surely be eager to be introduced. I can wait.”

“I’m offended Alfred,” Jason said, crouched on the kitchen floor, petting down her back. “You don’t want to meet your great grandkid?”

Bruce snorted so loud he coughed and Alfred looked startled for a moment before an amused smile spread across his face. 

“I only hope not to overwhelm her.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” She was sitting on his feet, nearly underneath him. “I’m not sure what to do with her though while we’re in the cave.”

“You can bring her down,” Bruce answered, “we can set up a pen.”

Jason looked up at him where he leaned on the counter.

“You have a dog pen in the cave.”

He shrugged. “I thought you would know by now, I’m always prepared.”

  
  


*

  
  


Meditation was not entirely successful.

Turned out having a puppy off to the side the entire time was more than a little distracting.

He finally got to get his stitches out though, which Apples watched with wary eyes right at the edge of her pen, face nearly pressed up against the wire frame. 

He spent the rest of the afternoon alternating between taking pictures he sent to everyone, and reading up on training and how to soothe a nervous dog. 

Damian had apparently been doing his own research, because as soon as the kid got home he found them in the den. 

“I believe it would be beneficial to introduce her to Titus’s scent.”

Jason looked up from where he was sitting on the floor, dragging a toy back and forth across the carpet while Apples clumsily hopped after it. As soon as Damian spoke though, her ears were down and she crawled up into his lap. 

The kid frowned, eyes flicking down to her, but he didn’t say anything. He was holding a gross looking tennis ball in one hand and still had his school uniform on. He then pulled a small bag of treats out of his pocket, once Jason knew he kept for training Titus.

“To help her associate his smell with good things,” he explained, coming forward and setting them both down on the coffee table between them. 

Jason hummed, reaching over and taking both.

Damian hovered awkwardly for a moment, before he finally sat on the edge of the couch, watching them from a short distance. She was much more interested in the treats, completely ignoring the ball at first, until he stuffed the baggy in his pocket too.

Then she caught the scent on the ball. Like most dogs, she was instantly glued to it, nose pressed against the matted surface and sucking in deep puffs of air. But instead of seeming excited, her ears stayed down, and he noticed the fur between her shoulder blades prick up in tiny puff behind the cone. 

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s ok.” He pulled the ball away and quickly switched it for a tiny piece of freeze dried meat. He scratched at the back of her neck, smoothing out the ruffled fur until she was gently wagging her tail again. They went through this a few times before she no longer reacted with anything more than interested sniffs.

Until Damian quietly suggested, “I could bring Titus in, and he will lay on the floor, so she can get used to his presence.” 

Jason hesitated, unsure about throwing too much at her at once. But...she had been living in a shelter surrounded by other dogs for a few weeks, and she’d been ok, she’d have him with her now, and not just be on her own in a cage with a concrete floor. And Jason knew Titus would behave, and that he was probably getting his soft, puppy feelings hurt that Jason was ignoring him all day. 

Bruce had ended up taking him on his afternoon walk, since Jason was preoccupied.

“Alright, just don’t let him get close.”

Damian gave a sharp nod before exiting the room to track the dog down. It was only a couple minutes later that he returned, walking slowly. Titus’s reaction when he saw Apples was immediate, he pulled forward against Damian’s grip on his collar, tail whipping through the air.

“Titus sit,” Damian commanded, soft but firm. The dog obeyed, albeit reluctantly, back feet readjusting three or four times like he couldn’t stand being still. 

For her part, Apples let out a high, uneven growl and nearly tried to climb Jason to get up on the couch behind him. “Alright, _ok_ , it’s alright,” he tried to comfort, finally giving up and pushing her up over his shoulder so she could huddle in the corner of the couch, unfolding himself from the floor to follow, sitting in front of her like a shield. 

Damian walked Titus across the floor and had him lay down by the coffee table without a word while Jason pet the puppy carefully. He offered her another piece of meat but she ignored it entirely, more focused on stretching her neck over his legs so she could keep eyes on the other dog in the room.

“He’s nice, you’ll see. Just wants to be friends.” 

They spent nearly twenty minutes like that, Titus wagging his tail across the carpet anytime the puppy moved, head resting on Damian’s leg when he continued not to let him up from the floor.

Eventually Jason decided the less attention the better, and he changed the channel to something halfway entertaining and sat back enough to relax. He continued to offer the piece of meat until Apples, losing her vigilant attitude, finally took it carefully, chewing and swallowing and eventually laying her head down, cone wedged between the armrest and Jason’s leg. He scratched gently at her neck where the velcro sat and before too long she let out a little puppy yawn, easing to the quiet atmosphere.

Titus, the poor guy, looked utterly dejected at the lack of attention, and the obvious distaste of his new potential playmate. Jason tossed him a piece of freeze dried meat and he nosed at for a moment before laying his head on the carpet, facing the other direction. Damian huffed an exasperated noise and settled a hand on his head, leaning against the back of the couch and pulling out his phone. 

They sat there for a while more, until Jason thought he should probably take Apples outside again and it was about time for Titus’s second walk. He let Damian go first, following him out a couple minutes later with the puppy, so they weren’t too close. Apples watched them carefully in the distance, but didn’t seem overly bothered by their presence when they weren’t in the same room.

It was while Jason was standing under an umbrella, wishing faintly for a cigarette to warm his hands, that his phone buzzed in his pocket. He slipped it out, a smirk playing across his mouth before he even looked at it, figuring it was another request for a picture or a message full of heart eyes at the last one he sent. 

What he found was not that.

_92-022-6798211:_

_Jason Wayne_

_You will receive an encrypted video call at 05:00 on the batcave computer. Please be in attendance._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha....ha, sorry for the cliffhanger!! I initially was going to have a lot more happen in this chapter but I'm so long winded I had to split it. So much for my estimated chapter counts 😭, I was thinking three more, but....I just can't even give a number because I'm always wrong. 
> 
> I want to say - thank you all so much for your kind comments and especially, some of you have messaged me privately and just, life has been shitty lately for everyone, but I've been having a rough time and it means so much to me so thank you, thank you, thank you!!
> 
> Chapter title is from Myth by Beach House


	29. But I find the heat is too harsh on the skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason should have known it was too much to ask for things to be simple, or straightforward.
> 
> At one point in time Talia was everything to him. And then things got complicated, and they never stopped being complicated, and now they were a _mess_ and Jason just didn't know...he didn't know what to think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!! Early chapter~ 
> 
> Warnings in end notes!
> 
> Obviously by the description - the cats out of the bag lmao. Congrats to those who guessed! It is revealed very early in this chapter so I didn't feel the need to keep it a secret but this is all partially because I wanted to preface this chapter with a note about Talia.
> 
> Up to this point I've tried to be relatively canon compliant through Damian's resurrection. But in bringing in Talia I am forced to yeet some canon. I already mentioned in an earlier authors note that in this fic: Talia did not drug Bruce, and she did not sleep with Jason during UTRH. I am adding on - she was not involved in the disaster with Heretic that led to Damian's death. I replace her with Ra's in my mind, but you can imagine it was literally anyone else. But basically she's not freaking _evil_ and I resent canon for that depiction of her. 
> 
> That being said - I don't paint her as perfect. I know she's a controversial character and I hope I do her justice as the complicated lady that she is.

Jason swallowed as he stared at the words, mind blank. A pull on his wrist made him flinch and he looked down to find Apples tugging at the end of her leash. He took a few halting steps as his pulse picked up, his breathing too; physical reactions he’d tried to train out of himself a thousand times.

He’d never succeeded, only ever managed to clamp down on his adrenaline and control the output. But now there was no output at all. He was standing in the green behind Wayne Manor with his little brother and his dog in the distance, a puppy on a leash, and a veritable bomb in his hand.

An _invitation._

The text wasn’t signed but Jason had no doubt who it was from. Talia didn’t usually use his last name, but if she had some lackey setting this up for her, which he didn’t doubt, she’d never call him Todd.

He fumbled for a moment, shoving the phone back in his pocket and transferring the umbrella back to his right hand, slipping the leash off his wrist and back into his palm.

Apples walked through the grass and he stared blankly after her with a hollow chest, his ears buzzing a high mosquito whine that only got louder.

There were too many things it could mean.

Obviously she’d gotten Bruce’s message, whatever it had been. Had she messaged him too? Was he summoned to this call along with Jason? She probably would have told him...at least he hoped. She wasn’t exactly forthcoming most of the time.

Beyond that, why did she want to talk?

She must know something; must have information like Bruce thought. Which meant she could have answers.

Maybe even a solution.

His hands were shaking, he realized, when a thick stream of water dumped down his shoulder, pouring off the side of his umbrella.

“Apples,” he called, voice hushed. She didn’t really know her name yet, and he had to call a couple more times before she turned back to look at him. “Let’s get back inside, it’s cold.”

He tugged on her leash, pulling her back toward the manor. She went easily enough, shaking her whole body when he took off her jacket and unbuckled the harness inside.

It was close to dinner now, and he ran into Bruce and Alfred in the kitchen as soon as he left the mud room.

He stiffened, pretty noticeably he was sure, bending down to pet at Apples as some kind of diversion when she warily walked around the outside of the room, still unsure of Alfred.

“I’m preparing a lasagna, if you wish to have it in the den with her later, Master Jason,” Alfred offered when he stood back up.

“Sure, Alfie, sounds good.”

Bruce was standing at the counter, a mug in one hand, relaxed posture, and always-sharp-eyes trained right on him.

“Is everything alright?” He asked, shifting his weight to his other foot, somehow noticing Jason’s nerves even when they felt like a distant echo in his own head.

“Yeah, of course,” he said on an exhale. The _‘of course’_ was a stretch, but Bruce nodded anyway.

“Damian’s still out with Titus?”

“Yeah, he’ll probably be another few, Titus has some energy to burn I think.”

Bruce nodded again, taking a sip from his mug and watching the puppy for a moment.

Jason could tell him about the text. He could feel his phone burning a hole in his pocket the whole time he stood there.

But what would he say? Bruce didn’t trust Talia anymore. Not that Jason could really argue the point, all things considered. He’d want to be there for the video call. And even if he didn’t insist on that, he could have the computer record it without Jason ever knowing. He didn’t want to think he would do that but...old habits were hard to break and Bruce had plenty of bad ones.

And Jason didn’t know what she was going to tell him yet...if he’d want Bruce to know. Things were just starting to go better. He didn’t want whatever this was to screw it all up.

Except that he was supposed to be _trying_ with Bruce.

Anxiety and fear were strong motivators though, and Jason was filled with enough indecision that his jaw felt rusted shut.

“I’ll be in the den,” he managed to half whisper before all but fleeing the room, cursing himself for how obvious his discomfort was. Jason, on a normal day, was a decent actor, and a great liar, but the suddenness of it and the uncertainty had all of his nerves firing at once and not at all.

He settled himself on the couch in the den, helping Apples up after him, halfheartedly playing tug-o-war with a toy and steadily feeling himself step away. A distant, sluggishness to his perception of the world.

The sensation of removal was not unfamiliar, and Jason knew in an absent way that it probably wasn’t good, but it was a little bit of a relief, too.

*

The evening went by in something of a haze, gone and done with before Jason could blink, unable to remember even eating dinner. There was a flash of a moment with Alfred the cat that stood out, when he had wandered into the den and hopped up on the couch. Apples had been _fascinated._

A little more than the cat appreciated though, and he’d fled the room just a few minutes later. Jason had to stop Apples from following right after and Damian seemed torn between amusement and irritation.

This time Bruce met him at his door. He’d stayed up longer than normal, watching tv he wasn’t actually paying attention to while Damian made Titus lay on the floor, vanishing sometime later without him realizing until he noticed they just - weren’t there anymore.

He took apples out one more time before returning to his room and they both happened to meet there, outside his door.

Bruce greeted the puppy first, kneeling down and letting her smell him, petting her a little. “I thought you might want help with the ointment again.”

“Oh, yeah,” Jason blinked. “I...I forgot,” his stomach twisted at the realization. He would have just not done it without the reminder.

Bruce nodded, giving him a cautious look before following him into the room, lifting Apples onto the bed while Jason found the tube of ointment on his nightstand.

It went pretty much the same as the first time, and Apples went and sulked at the end of his bed while Bruce put the cap back on the tube and then just held it between his knees where he sat at the edge of the bed.

“Jay?” He asked, when Jason only sat there, his phone still a heavy weight in his pocket. The text had slowly been pushing down the list in his phone, his messages full of heart emojis and requests to meet the puppy. But he still scrolled down to look at it every time he opened the app.

“Hm?”

“Is everything alright?” He turned the tube around in his hands, glancing over to look at Jason, who was staring at the fidget toy on his nightstand.

He took a deep breath, filling his chest with as much air as he could manage before letting it out in one big burst.

“Kind of a stupid question,” he finally said, reaching over and swiping up the toy.

Bruce gave a low hum of acknowledgement but didn’t move, just continued to watch him. “You just seem...quiet.”

Jason snorted, though he could feel his pulse fluttering in his neck. “I’m fine B.”

He didn’t look convinced. That little wrinkle between his brows was more pronounced than usual and his hands stilled, but he nodded.

“Alright, well, you know where to find me, if you need anything. I’ll leave a com out for you.”

Jason dipped his chin, his tongue feeling somehow fat and unwieldy, like he’d slur his words if he tried to say anything.

“I’m going into work in the morning,” Bruce added, when Jason didn’t speak, “so I won’t be available until later, but you can always call.”

He should just tell him, he thought, for the hundredth time. “Yeah B, I know. Seriously I’m fine.” But uncertainty pulled him back.

He sort of wanted to talk about it, but he was also terrified and he didn’t know what Talia was going to say and he didn’t want anyone else to know before he did. Before he knew how he felt about it. But now, after everything, he also felt bad for making Bruce worry. Because he could see it in the curve of his shoulders, the little downward slant of his mouth.

“I’m tired though, and you got assholes in masks to go pound into the ground.”

That got a twitch of a smile at least.

“I’ll let you sleep then.” He reached out and patted his socked foot, resting on top of the blankets, before he stood up from the bed and leaned down to give Apples a careful scratch on the shoulders. Then he turned back toward the door. She lifted her head briefly to look at him, but didn’t get up.

“Goodnight Jay.”

“Night Bruce,” he said, still curled up at the head of his bed while he watched him leave, closing the door silently behind him.

And then it was just him and Apples, who still wanted nothing to do with him and probably wouldn’t for the next little while at least.

He pulled his phone out, scrolling back through his messages and once again staring down at the glowing characters. 5am would be long after Damian came back in, and probably an hour after Bruce if not more, unless something went badly haywire. So it seemed likely that Talia had no intention of anybody finding out about this unless Jason wanted them to.

Which...was nice, kind of.

He hadn’t heard from her in so long, it might as well have been years. It was hard to think of how he felt about talking to her. If he even had any idea.

But he did - he did appreciate that she was coming to him, instead of Bruce, when Bruce was the one who actually reached out. But he also dreaded telling her about this, admitting that he was losing control after all she had helped him do.

He was never going to be able to sleep.

*

It was 4:30am and Jason was floundering. He slept for maybe 30 minutes at a time, waking from dreams he couldn’t remember in fits and starts, rolling over so many times that Apples got up and went to sleep at the end of the bed away from him.

He laid there, staring at the ceiling and counted, reciting lines under his breath, trying to set the pattern with his breathing.

 _Breathe,_ “in time of daffodils who know,” _breathe,_ “the goal of living is to grow,” _breathe,_ “forgetting why, remember how,” _breathe,_ “in time of lilacs who proclaim,” _breathe,_ “the aim of waking is to dream,” _breathe._

A noise stopped him mid breath and he hesitated, blinking into the moonlight streaming in through his window. It was soft, just a quiet shuffling down the hall. Jason had heard the same thing two hours earlier when Damian had come in and his heart rate settled. It was just Bruce, coming back from patrol.

But of course the sound didn’t make a straight path to the master bedroom. Instead, soft footsteps slowed and paused, and then Jason heard the distinct sound of a door latch catching very quietly in the hall.

He was checking on Damian, he realized, and just as the footsteps grew just a little bit easier to make out Jason rolled over, away from the door, right before it silently opened behind him. He barely dared to breathe with Bruce standing in his doorway, watching.

He stood there for a long time, long enough that Jason felt sure he was going to call him on being awake; that somehow he could tell, even from staring at his back from across the room. But he didn’t say a word, or step inside. There was only a hushed breath, just loud enough for Jason to make out before he backed out of the room and closed the door behind him.

Jason stared out the window, at the tops of empty branches that he could just make out from where he lay.

Bruce used to do that sort of thing, when he was a kid. He wouldn’t let him stay out as late on school nights, so he’d send him home first, coming in after him by a couple hours. But Jason had always had trouble sleeping. So sometimes he’d find him awake, sitting up in bed and reading, or pouring over a math textbook.

He’d come in and pull whatever it was out of his hands and tell him to lie down.

_“I can’t sleep, I already tried.”_

_“I know, but just try one more time.”_

And Jason would huff and roll his eyes but he’d slump back into the pillows and Bruce would sit on the edge of the bed with Jason’s book in his hands and he’d tell him something funny that happened on patrol after Jason had left. Or if it was a novel, sometimes he’d read to him.

He swallowed roughly at the memory, wondering if he’d done it before now, since he’d been back. He hadn’t thought about it in - he didn’t know how long. One of those untouchable things that felt a little less like a ghost story now, something that made his chest ache with nostalgia.

He closed his eyes and let out a slow breath, hissed between his teeth. He should have told him about Talia’s message.

It was only thirty more minutes until the call was supposed to come through.

It occurred to him that he could just...not show up. He could stay in his bed and actually fall asleep for once and let Talia think he didn’t want to see her or know what she had to say. It might be simpler in the end if he did. They could keep going the way they were and hope to find a solution on their own.

But that would be idiotic. If anyone was likely to have answers, anything close to a solution, it was Talia.

And Jason sort of did want to see her, he thought. As much as he avoided thinking about his days with the League Talia had...she’d cared about him, and for him. Even when he was barely there to realize it.

He would tell Bruce after, he told himself. Whatever it was she had to say to him Jason wanted to hear it first, before anyone else. It was his life, and his mind, and he deserved to know first.

He glanced at his phone screen - 25 minutes left. Apples was out cold at the foot of the bed and he figured it would be his best chance to leave quietly without waking her. So very carefully, he pulled back the blankets and slipped out of bed. He took a moment to grab a pair of slippers and pull on a zip up hoodie and then, with practiced movement, he sneaked silently out of his childhood bedroom.

One deep breath and he was down the hall.

Jason never knew when Alfred actually woke up, the man kept the hours of a wizard, but he wouldn’t have been surprised to see him making his own breakfast if he headed down through the kitchen, so instead he chose the entrance in the study. He never liked it, he much preferred the stairs to the elevator but it was useful.

The cave was never 100% dark for safety reasons, but it was dim, all the lights on an energy saving setting, low enough to let you sleep if you were stuck down here on a medical cot for the night. When he stepped out, there was a short pause before motion sensors caught his movement and they climbed to a brighter setting, illuminating the path to the supercomputer.

He pushed back the desk chair and sat down, reaching under the desk and switching on a space heater someone had dragged down here. Jason’s money was on Tim, since he used the computer the most, but it was just as likely to be Cass, who sometimes curled up underneath it while Bruce worked. Jason appreciated it now, the white noise was settling, and there was always a chill in the cave.

Since he’d come _back into the fold_ somewhat officially, Bruce had updated all of his sign in information but Jason didn’t use it. He knew he wouldn’t need to. Talia’s call would come through either way and he didn’t want Bruce to look at their log records and find Jason had signed in at 4:45am on a Wednesday. Instead he sat and waited, doing little half turns in the chair before his eyes hit the com laid out on the desk.

Bruce had said he’d leave one out, he remembered.

Jason wiped his palms on his pajama pants and pulled his phone out to check the time again. Talia wouldn’t be early, but she wouldn’t be late either. With one heavy sigh he tossed his head back against the chair and closed his eyes, trying, for once, to go into a meditative state like Bruce would.

When the screen blinked to life Jason squinted, shielding his eyes from it for a moment before they could adjust and he moved his hand to find Talia, just as he expected, larger than life before him.

“Jason,” she said, voice quiet, nodding her head but never taking her eyes off the screen. Her hair was pulled up, and she was wearing a deep green blazer and a gold necklace.

“...hey,” he said back, voice rasping and caught up in his throat.

He saw the edge of her mouth twitch up.

“You have not changed much, I see.”

Jason shifted in his seat, trying to give her a charming smile even though his guts were tangled up in his throat. “Why change perfection?”

It was easy to fall back into talking to her, and this time his smile was a little bit real when she closed her eyes in exasperation. He half expected her to pinch her nose like Bruce always did.

When she opened them again her eyes darted across the screen, over Jason’s slumped form in the chair. He quickly shifted to sit up straighter.

“You look tired,” she said after a moment, voice softly concerned in a way that brought up memories he didn’t even know he had.

“It’s five in the morning,” he shot back, pushing a laugh into his voice.

But she could see through it, he knew she could.

She didn’t say anything again for a long time, and there was no movement that Jason could catch on the screen. Wherever she was the background was empty, nothing but a cream colored blur.

Her next words somehow caught him off guard, despite knowing how straight forward she could be, when she wanted to. “I’ve missed you.”

And he wasn’t sure exactly what to say back. Because his stomach flipped at her words, taking all casual feeling from the conversation. He’d missed her too, but part of him resented it. That she hadn’t been there, for him _or_ for Damian, when things got bad.

But she didn’t owe him anything, he reminded himself. He wasn’t her son. But she did owe Damian, and Jason held onto that, a little, to keep himself firm. It was too easy to go soft when he talked to her, to lean on her when he shouldn’t. It reminded him uncomfortably of talking to Bruce in the past, when they were in an in between moment, not enemies but not father and son either.

The lack of response felt heavy in the air, even across oceans. Jason tried not to feel bad for the way her eyes went sad before she reached up and adjusted her necklace.

“How have you been?”

“Talia,” he exhaled heavily, “can we just...can we not do this?”

The sadness in her eyes only grew, but Jason held his ground, staring at the screen with a tense jaw.

“Of course,” she nodded her acknowledgement, carefully blinking away the sorrow to something more neutral. Another thing that always made him wonder...,he was never sure if her softness was put on or real. He used to think he knew, but so much had happened over the years, he just wasn’t sure anymore.

“You wish to know why I requested our meeting.”

Jason swallowed, “Bruce reached out.”

She nodded again, this time a knowing look in her eyes. “Indeed. I thought it odd though, that it didn’t come from you, but your father instead. I wondered if you were aware.”

Jason gave a mirthless laugh and leaned back in the chair, still doing little quarter turns back and forth, pushing off with his toes. “He told me, after, that he’d contacted you.”

Her expression was serious and contemplating. “And you are aware of why.”

 _“I am,_ yeah. I don’t know how much he said to you though.”

She reached up again, turning the pendant on her necklace over in her hand. “He did not say a lot. But I can imagine where he was going.” She paused, hand stilling and eyes trained directly on him. “He mentioned you were staying here. I thought it best to speak with you directly. Bruce has a way of inserting himself where he is not wanted, at times.”

Jason cleared his throat. “Yeah, he can be that way.” He was beginning to feel his palms sweating again, at the way she looked at him, the way she could just _see_ things about him sometimes. He wondered if she was that way with Damian.

“He specifically requested any knowledge I might have regarding the Lazarus Pits.”

Jason nodded. This was, of course, not news to him.

“Can you tell me why that would be?”

And now his mouth felt dry on top of the sweaty hands. “He didn’t tell you?” A dumb question, since she wouldn’t be asking if he had.

“Not in any sort of detail, no.”

When Jason was quiet, eyes leaving the screen to skitter across the cave for no other reason than to avoid hers, she made a soft noise.

“Perhaps I can infer the reason.”

“Go for it,” he rasped, tapping his fingers on the desk and eyeing the com still laying there where Bruce left it.

There was a soft breath from Talia, before she started, “while it has been dormant for over a year now, you have been struggling with it once more, in recent months. With violent urges and a flaring temper.”

Jason finally chanced a glance up, not knowing what he’d find, wondering if she would be disappointed in him for it. She’d taught him how to get a handle on it the first time, even if it took him a long time to get there. She’d been dunked more than once. She knew what it felt like even better than Jason and yet she was never overcome like he was.

When his eyes finally landed on her face though, there was nothing but concern.

“I don’t know what to do.”

The words came out of him like they had been waiting to slip past his guard, desperate and small. She softened further, and whatever strength he thought he was holding onto, in the face of her concern it vanished.

“I stopped killing people,” he started again, trying for a better explanation, for something that made sense. “Me and Bruce, we made an agreement, and I stopped, and ever since it’s - it;s been getting harder to ignore, it feels like it used to, always there, right under the surface. And I can’t - I know it’s not _wrong_ but I don’t - I don’t _want_ to go back to that. I…” he swallowed, “I like what I have now, and I don’t want to ruin it, and I don’t...I don’t want to kill someone because some fucking curse says I _have_ to or I _lose my mind.”_

When he stopped he was nearly gasping, chest heaving until he felt overly warm. His face was most certainly red and blotchy and he consciously clenched his jaw against any unwanted sound escaping.

Talia watched him as she leaned to the side, resting her elbow on the arm rest and touching two fingers to her cheek.

“You think this resurgence is because you no longer kill.”

Jason swallowed against a heavy lump in his throat and gave a jerky shrug. “Isn’t it? It lines up with the timing.”

She gave a quiet hum but said nothing for a moment.

“When was this? That you made the agreement?”

He ran a hand through his hair, wishing he had thought to bring the fidget toy Bruce had gotten him and then glancing around the desk to find another. Bruce had said he left one there for himself. When he spotted it he had a moment to think it looked well used, the paint rubbed off on the corners, before he snatched it up and rolled it between his hands.

“It was probably eight months ago.”

“And it has been a slow progression since then?”

“Yeah, pretty much.” He stared at his hands and the toy, the light from the screen reflecting off his skin.

“...and what prompted this agreement?”

Jason let out a low breath, thinking back on things he didn’t really know how to feel about. “I don’t know...we worked together on a case, and it went well. And I thought I might stick around Gotham, instead of hitting the road again, so...we agreed, for both our sake's.”

Talia seemed to consider this, eyes distant, drawing away from the screen while she turned her necklace pendant around and around. “And your friends,” she finally asked, “that you were traveling with? Did they stay as well?”

“My friends- how do you even know about them?” Jason looked up with a scowl on his face.

Talia seemed vaguely amused. “Just because we do not see each other often does not mean I don’t keep watch at times. You and Damian are important to me. I like to check in, on occasion.”

Jason let that sit for a moment, in a tight, uncomfortable place in his chest, like he’d swallowed his food too fast. “You and Bruce are so alike sometimes,” he scoffed but Talia only smiled.

“I will take that as a compliment.”

“It wasn’t meant as one,” Jason snapped.

He was already on edge, and finding out he’d been spied on wasn’t helping. He dealt with that enough already, now he apparently had _two_ overbearing shadows that thought they were helping.

Talia didn’t make an amused comment in return, like he half expected her to, she was simply quiet.

“...It is difficult to be separated from the both of you, it helps to see you are well.”

The confession was quiet, and unexpectedly earnest and Jason fought with a warring incredulity and soft heartache.

“Sure,” he said back, monotone. “And what about the times when we’re not?”

Her eyes dimmed, angled down and away.

“Then I know it is best I keep my distance.”

Jason felt his stomach sour. “Sure, yeah, your 12 year old son I’m sure appreciates your _distance.”_

This was why he had skipped the intro, the _small talk_ , there was too much unresolved between them and this wasn’t why they were talking now. Bruce called in a favor on Jason’s behalf and now he was spitting in the face of it.

Her eyes flashed up and she looked hurt, briefly, before Jason backpedaled.

“Look, forget it, that’s not what this is about. I know…” But Jason _didn’t_ know, _anything_ really.

“I do not wish to confuse him any longer. He has a home there, and my presence only creates conflict between him and his father.”

Jason gave a light scoff, leaning forward with his elbows on the desk. “Yeah, for never having been married you two sure do act like a pissy divorced couple.”

This time she did look amused, giving a soft hum in return. “When your children are involved it is difficult to compromise.”

Jason had a lot of things he could say back, so many arguments he could easily start that were just simmering below the surface; but he took a breath and reigned himself in. He wasn’t gonna change anything by getting worked up at Talia and he needed her, needed answers.

 _“Anyway,_ to your question, no. They didn’t stick around and I didn’t expect them to. I was the one that broke off and decided to stay. It wasn’t their job to keep me company.”

She gave a slow nod. “I suppose that’s true, but…” it was one of the only times Jason could remember seeing Talia hesitate. He swallowed.

“But what?”

Her eyes trained on his again, that intense look that always made him either want to hide or spill his guts when he was younger. “You were still rather...estranged with everyone, were you not?”

“With…” Jason sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, “I certainly wasn’t living at the manor, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Yes, I was rather surprised to hear that.”

“It’s a recent development,” he didn’t have to tell her why.

“I can imagine…” She tapped her fingernails lightly on the desk in front of her.

“Talia, where is this going? What does this have to do with the Pit? I don’t need a bunch of philosophy, I need a _fix._ Can you tell me how to stop it? Is...is there a way to make it stop?” His voice grew quieter with every word, until he was barely whispering.

“...it is nothing easy, or simple, and I’m afraid it is not the answer you are expecting.”

He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, ready to throw itself to the wolves if it meant _fixing_ this.

“I don’t care, whatever it is, I’ll do it.”

Her gaze was steady when she continued, “there are things I have learned over the years, about the Lazarus Pits. It will never truly leave you, I’m afraid.”

Jason swallowed, pushing down his anxiety, clenching the little plastic cube in his hand tight enough to hurt.

“I had a similar experience to what you’re feeling now, when I first left Damian in Gotham. There is little more stressful than leaving your child in the hands of someone else.

“It happened again, when it was thought that your father had died. But never so terribly as…” she stopped for a moment, diverting her eyes, “as when Damian was killed.”

Jason sat very still, listening intently but not really comprehending what she was saying. “What does that mean? What do- what do those things have to do with it?”

She reached up for the first time then, and pulled out whatever pin was holding her hair in place, letting it fall around her shoulders. It softened her a little, and made her sympathetic expression that much more nerve wracking.

“The Lazarus will always affect you, but it does not control you.”

 _“What does that mean?”_ Jason nearly growled.

She sighed before continuing, “The Lazarus Pits’ effect is strong initially, so strong it can barely be prevailed over. But it fades with time, into something manageable. You remember, don’t you, how your mood would affect the urges.”

“I…” Jason floundered, still not getting it, a swell of dread rising behind his ribs. “I don’t know, I was always angry.”

She shook her head. “You weren’t. You were never as angry as you saw yourself.”

Jason scoffed, not knowing what to think or how to feel.

“It is not a curse, Jason,” she finally said, “The Lazarus has no mind of its own, and killing would never sat it.”

Jason took a moment to breathe, trying to clear his head. “What are you saying?”

Her face was still soft when she went on, “I am saying that your friends left and you were alone; working with no support, straining to meet new standards with no one to rely on. It was likely small things initially, wasn’t it?”

“What…”

“Little flare ups in the middle of a confrontation, the urge to hit harder, to do unnecessary damage. Nearly unnoticeable at first.”

Jason stared back at her, chest heaving. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Am I wrong?” She paused, necklace chain wrapped around her index finger.

“...no, but, but it wasn’t just that, it- it got so much worse. It’s _still_ worse.” Jason was insistent, he pressed a fist to the desk, barely keeping himself from slamming it down.

She inclined her head once. "It was a struggle, wasn't it, to handle everything on your own?"

"I was fine!" The unnecessary volume of his voice though, said otherwise.

"You were lost."

Jason stared at the screen, throat dry and painful, words unreachable.

"It doesn't go away on its own," she said softly, "and you didn't ask for help, did you?"

"I was fine," he tried to say back, but his voice was hoarse and uneven, neck pained from looking up at her.

"You used to have nightmares-"

"Don't." Jason looked down, stared at his clenched fist on the desk and hoped he didn't crack his teeth for how hard he was clenching his jaw.

"You didn't like to be alone."

He swallowed, felt his muscles straining to move against invisible restraints and he took a shaky, quiet breath.

“Did it frighten you?”

It took a long moment for the question to register but when it did he looked back up, incredulous.

"Did what?"

"That you could feel it, more frequently, with more pull. That a pattern was emerging."

Jason blinked back at her, eyes wide and blank. “W-what kind of question is that?”

“You have always dreaded a loss of control. Something you have in common with your father.”

“So what, you’re...you’re saying this is me?” he barely dared breathe the words but it was the one thing that his mind kept dragging up with every new thing she told him.

“The Lazarus is driven by emotion,” she answered him, “your fear of it likely compounded the problem. This idea that it was overtaking you, that it would force you to kill, it was quite terrifying, I imagine.”

“That doesn’t - there’s no way that’s it. It lines up, it all lines up with the _agreement-”_

“And with the loss of the only people you felt you could rely on. That would be very stressful.”

“No,” Jason said, voice hard. He could feel it in his chest, the Lazarus beating offtime with his heart. _Always._ “That’s not it. That can’t be it.”

She frowned at him, leaning back in her chair, pulling her hands off the desk.

“Is this not better than a curse?”

Jason’s mind was reeling, because it couldn’t be that. It couldn’t be that it was _him_ this entire time; that it was all in his _head._ “It wasn’t me. I wasn’t- I _wouldn’t_ do the shit that I-” His voice was hitched and breathy, he could remember flashes, the feeling of his hands around a man’s neck, the sense of being completely out of control.

“The Lazarus is still a volatile thing. I’m sure it was not uninvolved-”

He wasn’t really listening to her anymore, his mind scrambling through every instance when it had felt so close to the surface, when he’d had to breathe through the urge to _hurt._

His voice was a low threat when he said, “you’re lying.”

She looked surprised, and then pained before she composed herself. “What purpose wold I have in lying to you?”

“I don’t know, why the fuck do you do _anything?_ Why’d you show me those pictures?!”*

It was an old wound, a very long ago buried pain and uncertainty that Jason had tried to push down like everything else. Because he didn’t understand it.

He wanted to think she cared but when he looked back at some of the things she’d done and said to him when he was still crazy off the Pit he didn’t understand what she was trying to accomplish. He didn’t understand Talia so much of the time; it was easy to lash out.

“Do you think I did not feel betrayed on your behalf? He replaced you.” She sounded near astonished and Jason could only gape.

“He _moved on._ He gave another kid a chance and you made me hate him!”

She blinked in shock, uncertainty in her eyes.

“I only had your best interests in mind,” her words were hushed, as if, if she spoke low enough it might somehow make more sense.

“And me killing my dad was _good for me?”_

“I knew you would not go through with it. I hoped that your efforts would help you see-”

“That doesn’t make it better!” Jason took a deep, gasping breath and shook his head. “I can’t believe you.”

“Jason, _son-”_

“Don’t call me that!”

She flinched like he’d slapped her but Jason could feel the Pit now, coming up just like it had from the start. It burned through his veins and pushed up every old hurt with it, all of his confusion and pain. She was wrong. Whatever reason she had to be spouting this shit at him it couldn’t be true.

There was a long silence, a heavy weight in the air just long enough for Jason to feel it sink into the base of his stomach like lead before she took a quiet breath and pressed her lips thin.

“I know I’ve made mistakes, and some of them,” she swallowed, “some of them were great. If I knew then what I know now, I would have made different choices, but I cannot take them back. I am sorry for any part I had in your pain. I have only ever wanted what was best for you.

“I would not lie about this. I have been where you are, there would be no purpose. I thought it would be a relief-”

“It is not all in my fucking head! This is not- I am not making this up!” This time he did slam his fist into the desk, a sharp ache running up his arm.

“And I did not say that you were, _Jason-”_ she stopped, taking a few breaths and watching him closely before her expression calmed to something neat and neutral and Jason knew that the conversation was over. “I can see that you need time to digest the information.”

 _“Don’t,_ just- just,” he was gripping the edge of the desk, fidget toy still in one hand, digging painfully into his palm.

“Perhaps this was a mistake. I will leave you now.”

“No! You don’t just get to-”

“I am sorry it was not what you wished to hear.”

_“Talia-”_

“Know that I love you.”

There were tears in her eyes and it took the words right out of his mouth. His chest hurt, his heart was pounding, he wanted to throw up and he didn’t want - he didn’t want her to look at him like that.

“Wait, just _wait-”_ he could hear how desperate he sounded now, but it didn’t matter; the screen went black.

Jason sat there, blinking at the afterimage of her face on the screen. His breathing was erratic, his pulse elevated. Suddenly he pushed himself away from the desk. Standing up in a rush, he gripped the stupid fidget toy in his hand and threw it with all his strength toward the entrance to the cave. It shot out of his hand like a bullet, but it didn’t have much weight behind it. It hit the floor before it even reached the docking bay, tumbling and ricocheting off the stone until it hit the stairs leading down to the batmobile and tumbled right over.

He stood there, feeling his chest heave with every breath, nearly collapsing his lungs, and listened to the sound of his own breathing and the _tick tack tick_ noises as the toy pitched down the steps.

He wanted to do more. A lot more than that. Could see in the back of his mind how satisfying it would be to throw a fist through the computer, to grab whatever project of open circuit boards someone left on the desk and crush them under his bare feet, to destroy the lab equipment, the medical facility, the machinery that built their weapons.

But he just stood there, planted to the floor, reciting useless words under his breath about _flowers_ and _dreams._

She was so full of bullshit. It _wasn’t_ him. It wasn’t _Jason._ It was something else. It had to be.

It couldn’t be his fault. It wasn’t - it wasn’t just in his head.

He was shaking, he realized, eyes pressed shut and fists clenched. The pulsing of the Pit was loud, and it wasn’t getting better the longer he stood there. His breathing was only picking up and he recognized, absently, that he was heading toward a panic attack if he didn’t do something about it. Trying to count his breaths left him nearly dizzy and he needed- he needed the other stuff, the stupid chap stick and the bubble gum and a fucking _cigarette._

His throat was tight and painful against each swallow as he forced his feet to move back toward the elevator. When the doors closed he nearly collapsed against the wall, closing his eyes against sudden dizziness, fists clenched around the handrails.

The doors didn’t automatically open when he reached the top, they never did. Instead they showed up an image of the study, letting you know if someone was there or not. For a long time he just stood there breathing, staring into the empty room just beyond the doors and feeling simultaneously like he could tear through them with his bear hands and like he didn’t have the energy to walk that far.

He felt pins and needles in his hands and feet as he finally fumbled the button to open the doors, dragging himself blindly out of the room. For a brief moment he was lost when he entered the hall, unable to remember what direction his room was, blinking dumbly into the darkness.

He pressed both hands into his eyes until he saw spots, forcing his brain to orient itself before he headed one direction and abruptly changed course, shaking his head at his own faulty memory. He’d been heading back toward the guest room.

It was difficult to tell if he was succeeding in being quiet with how loud his breathing felt but he did his best not to throw his door open.

The chapstick was on his nightstand, and he went for it first, swiping a thick layer of pineapple wax over his mouth and inhaling the scent as much as possible. He sat heavily on the bed for a moment and then slipped to the floor on his knees to dig under the bed for his cigarettes.

A noise startled him though, and he glanced behind himself and flinched,, nearly falling on his ass because Apples was there, belly low to the ground and ears down, tail wagging nervously across the floor.

 _“Shit,”_ he whispered, landing hard on the carpet, feeling his head spin. He’d forgotten. He’d forgotten she would be there.

“It’s ok,” he tried to reassure, voice coming out uneven and rough. But she crawled a little closer, until Jason stretched out his legs and she slowly pulled herself into his lap, looking at him with big, brown eyes.

“It’s ok,” he repeated, letting her lick at his hands, brushing over her back and under the cone. He breathed heavily, trying to slow his heart rate, trying not to scare her anymore than he already had.

But the next time he smoothed his hands down her fur he froze, stricken with sudden terror.

He could hurt her. Right now, like this, this is when it would happen. He could lose it so easily. The fire burning in his brain could make him do something awful, could take his hands and-

Little paws pressed against his chest and a warm, wet tongue slid under his chin.

Jason flinched and looked down, arms slack, hands cupped around nothing where Apples had been curled into his lap, now standing on his thighs.

He blinked and forcefully took a slow, measured breath, opening and closing his hands in careful, controlled motions. He hadn’t lost control, he was calming down, it wouldn’t escalate. It was _fine._ Apples was safe. He wouldn’t hurt her. He wouldn’t.

 _“I wouldn’t do that,”_ he whispered, out loud, hands coming up slowly to pet gently at her sides, barely grazing her fur and the little bumps of her ribs.

She licked at him again, this time right over his closed mouth and he grimaced, jerking his head back, jostling her enough that she lost her balance and fumbled back to sitting on him, tail wagging insistently, wapping against his legs.

It was the panic speaking, he told himself, forcing his hands not to shake when he stroked over her snout with his thumb, rubbing gently between her eyes until they fluttered closed.

Bruce was right, he reminded himself. Even when he was at his worst, he never hurt an animal, he was never that far gone.

But now his stomach twisted and soured and he wanted to throw up because she’d said it was him. This was happening because of _him._ Him and his own fucking mental dysfunction and what was he supposed to do about _that?_

It couldn’t be right. It was something else. It had to be.

Jason didn’t know why she would lie, but he’d never understood her, not really. It seemed like she cared. Jason wanted to think she cared, that she wasn’t lying when she’d said she loved him but now he questioned everything.

Because she _had_ to be lying. Or...or maybe she was just wrong. Maybe it was - maybe it was different for him. The Pit affected people differently, he knew that much. Not everyone had the burning fury and...and everything else he’d had. Maybe Talia just didn’t know.

The thought brought guilt with it, bubbling up in his chest from an ever replenishing fountain of self loathing.

He’d accused her of lying. Yelled at her when she was just trying to help, when she’d come directly to him instead of going through Bruce. Made her cry.

She’d been everything to him once, when he had no one else.

The thought made him sick to his stomach. It was too much. He couldn’t - he couldn’t parse out his feelings about Talia on top of the shit she told him, even if he didn’t believe her.

Because he didn’t.

Jason slumped against the side of the bed, his chest tight and hollow like an old, cracked vase. He looked down at Apples, still sitting there, gazing up at him. She kicked with her back foot at the neck of the cone and Jason eased his hand up, rubbing at her neck with the pads of his fingers until he had to set her back upright before she fell out of his lap.

He closed his eyes, feeling adrenaline and panic drain out of him with his last reserves of energy. It was nearing six in the morning and he had been awake almost the entire night, anxiety keeping him buzzed like caffeine. Now his eyes felt sticky and dry and his muscles were stiff.

The first hints of light were just showing outside, the blackness of his window turning a hazy gray. He knew he should sleep but he also knew he’d never be able to. Not after that conversation, with everything it sent swirling through his head. He felt like he was pressed so full he might burst at the seams.

Apples was awake, and she wasn’t laying back down and Jason figured, it nothing else, he could get her outside for a morning whizz and maybe the walk would help clear his head.

“Come on,” he whispered to her, gently sliding her off his lap, “let’s go outside.”

*

Despite having purchased Apples her own, puppy sized, tennis balls the day before, Jason pilfered one of Titus’ from the mud room on his way out with her after managing to get her in a jacket, velcroed around her chest and belly.

It was freezing out. Jason was fairly certain it was going to snow again soon, and this time it would be more than a wet flurry that melted in a few days. They were into December now, entering winter in full swing and it was only a matter of time before the ground froze over for three months and the sun vanished for just as long.

Apples didn’t seem overly bothered though, intent on sniffing at the grass and whatever she came across in her random perusing of the grounds. Jason had nothing in mind when he took her out. There was no destination or route, he just followed along after her, making sure she didn’t get so far ahead that he couldn’t catch up if she got startled and tried to run or something.

Then he threw the ball for her, for a bit, when the sky was light enough that they could both track it through the air.

Watching her clumsily chase the ball through the grass helped.

Just having something to _do_ helped. But it didn’t stop his stomach from churning, or the way it felt like he couldn’t get a full breath. Or the constant, unignorable sense of the Pit that kept itching at his awareness like it sensed a threat.

But there was no threat. Just the raised hairs on the back of Jason neck and the way the sound of a breaking branch made him flinch.

He didn’t keep her out too long, his own fingertips starting to numb.

Inside, he took a hand towel and wiped the water and mud from her paws, took the jacket off and fed her breakfast when Alfred entered the room, followed by Damian in full school uniform.

They both looked surprised to see him and Jason felt similarly. It was hard to keep track of the time and remember what everyone else was doing and when with all the shit going through his head.

“Good morning, Master Jason,” Alfred offered, voice a little more quiet than usual.

He greeted them both in return, though he really just wished he had a reason to leave the room. But Apples was now pressed up against his legs and ignoring her food and it at least gave him something else to focus on.

He crouched down next to her while Alfred went about starting breakfast and a moment later Damian cleared his throat quietly, making Jason look up to find him standing with a piece of cheese in his hand and a pensive expression.

“Would it be alright if I…” he lifted the cheese in one hand and motioned to Apples with the other and Jason let out a huff of air through his nose, an ache of something angry and sad in the center of his chest that Talia had reached out to _him_ and not Damian.

She might be right, that he was better off not being put in the middle of all the shit between her and Bruce, the League and the rest of the damn planet, but it still wasn’t fair.

“Sure,” he said after a pause, gently nudging the puppy just in front of him.

“Master Damian please remember we are on a timer.”

“Yes, Pennyworth.” But he still knelt on the tile floor and tore off a piece of the slice, holding it out carefully.

Apples didn’t seem inclined to unglue herself from his side but she did stretch her neck out and sniff the air in obvious interest and very slowly reached out and took it when Damian inched his way closer.

“Only one more piece,” Jason mumbled when he broke off another.

Damian huffed, holding his hand out again, “I am aware it is not wise to feed a small puppy an entire slice of cheese.”

“Mhm, only one more piece,” he repeated, smoothing a hand down her back. Damian frowned, but didn’t argue, retracting his hand after the second piece and then just sitting there on his heels for a moment, observing her.

“She needs to put on weight.”

“I know. She’s on high calorie food, she’ll get there.”

“Hn.”

They both looked up then, when a soft set of footsteps was heard over the tile and Bruce entered the kitchen, suit on and tie hanging around his neck.

“Morning,” he rasped, voice still rough from sleep, hands wrapped around both ends of his tie like he couldn’t remember the steps. He glanced up and blinked in surprise when he saw Jason, and cleared his throat.

“You’re up early.”

“M, couldn’t sleep.” It wasn’t a lie, and even if Bruce did frown and Damian looked at him with dark eyes, they didn’t ask him why. He knew no one would, and if they did, a new puppy was a decent enough excuse.

“Well, I hope you try to get some rest later,” Bruce walked past, pausing to ruffle Damian’s hair and then, to Jason’s surprise, his own. He ducked his head, looking up with an odd swoop in his stomach as Bruce kept on going, letting out a jaw cracking yawn. “Damian come on, you need to eat your breakfast so you’re not late for school.”

“I will not be late,” he grumbled, but he finally unfolded himself from the floor and took a seat at the counter where Alfred had laid a plate, leaving Jason to coax Apples back into finishing her breakfast.

It was quiet, and Jason, drained as he was, felt himself nearly nodding off leaned up against the cabinets. He denied the offer of breakfast from Alfred and left with Apples with the excuse that Titus would be down to eat soon.

The thought of everything Talia told him kept coming back, no matter how much he tried to ignore it while he busied himself making sure Apples was doing ok, playing with her, trying to get her used to the manor, taking her outside every couple hours. It didn’t leave him.

Constantine was supposed to show up soon. And that would give them answers. Because there had to be something going on, it had to be a _curse_ or something, it couldn’t just be...it couldn’t be all in his head. It certainly didn’t feel like it was, every time his anxiety bottomed out and it beat through his chest like blood. It felt like it was on a hair trigger, worse than he had been in days and he refused to think it was just because he was _upset._ That wasn’t it.

Of course his emotions had something to do with it, they always had but it was _more_ than that. He knew it was.

*

He pushed himself through the day, and then through dinner, but he was quiet, and he knew everyone could tell.

No one said anything when he excused himself; he was sure it was obvious how tired he was.

There was no real reason to avoid Bruce - because none of what Talia had told him was true so it didn’t matter - but he still didn’t answer the door when he knocked later. Already being in bed, it was easy to feign sleep when the door clicked open after a long pause, casting light across his floor.

He kept his eyes closed when he stepped silently into the room. Jason couldn’t see him, but he could sense it when he leaned across the bed, heard the soft scratching against the flexible, neoprene like fabric of Apples’ cone and the soft breath through his nose. Then a light hand brushed the hair back from his forehead and Jason barely held in a flinch.

“Goodnight,” Bruce whispered, hand lifting away as he quietly retreated, closing the door behind him.

Jason took a breath, blinked into the dark of the room and felt tears well up without warning.

He pressed his fingers into his eyelids, taking a shaky breath, and felt Apples’ cone slide across his forearm until she was resting her chin on his chest.

He didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to be a disappointment again. There had to be a reason - it had to be more than some fucked up imaginary curse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: symptoms of a panic attack including hyperventilating and all descriptions thereof. 
> 
> I think that's about it
> 
> __________
> 
> _oof_
> 
> so...a _reveal_. I've been a bit nervous to post this chapter for various reasons considering how long we've been leading up to this point, but it's been my plan since the very beginning and I'm excited to be here and to continue. I hope you enjoyed the chapter <3
> 
> Chapter title from La Lune by Billie Marten


	30. Another trick of the brain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone visits the cave. It doesn't go as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings in end notes!! Some decently important ones this chapter if you have any triggers.
> 
> Guess who stayed up until 1am when I have to wake up at 7 to post this 🙃

Jason slept for a few hours, but it wasn’t peaceful. Scattered with nightmares and a sense of doom he couldn’t seem to escape.

He woke up once in the middle of the night, realizing he’d never put Apples’ ointment on, so he slipped out of bed and managed to sneakily apply it to the skin he could reach before she woke up and squirmed away. He didn’t push it, just wrote it off as good enough and twisted the cap back on.

He sat on his floor for a while, rearranging the books on his shelves until Apples was curled up asleep again and then he laid on his back on the carpet and stared at the ceiling for a long time. 

The itch for a cigarette he’d been having came back with a vengeance.

Eyeing the puppy where she was laid out on her side, he figured she’d be ok by herself for a bit. She’d woken up when he was gone talking to Talia the night before, but she’d seemed to do alright without him for that little bit at least.

So very carefully, he snuck the half empty carton out from under his bed and slipped two out of the open pack inside. 

Sneaking out was easier then, and he spent as long as he could stand it on the back patio, softly illuminated by solar lights that lined the pavement. The clouds were so thick he couldn’t see the moon or any stars, just blackness, and he stared up at it, watching barely visible swirls of smoke waft through the air as he breathed.

He kept his cell phone with him, just to keep track of the time so he didn’t leave Apples alone for too long, and he pulled it out, scrolling aimlessly through a couple messages from Tim and Stephanie, trying to make arrangements to come see the puppy. Then he backed out of those and opened up his photo album, sifting through pictures he’d taken of Titus, and more recent ones of Apples. Then ones he’d saved from Stephanie, and the few older ones he had of random things. Photos of the brand of mustard he liked, a screenshot of an article he’d read, an old picture of Roy and Kori eating hotdogs in some random city. Might have even been on another planet; the meat didn’t look quite the right color to Jason.

Suddenly his chest hurt. Of course he knew he’d miss them when they left, but they’d been out of range now for a couple months and Jason, though he hated to admit it, worried sometimes. 

They’d be ok, he was sure. Being gone that long wasn’t unheard of and there was plenty to accomplish in space, but it felt like everything went wrong these days. It would be nice to just...have some proof that they were ok.

He pulled up a blank text, knowing full well it might never actually be received. Theoretically the recipient would get it when they came back into range but technology certainly wasn’t foolproof.

_Jason:_

_You better come see me when you guys get back. You’ve been gone too damn long._

Talia claimed it was them leaving that sent him spiraling. 

The idea made him furious but he couldn’t deny that it had been hard without them. Without anyone for a while. They had talked still, when they could, but it wasn’t the same and Jason, in spite of himself and everything he’d learned, had gotten used to having people at his back. People watching out for him and vice versa and suddenly he was back in Gotham, working with the Bats, and it felt important to finish what he started there, but it was all business with them back then. He couldn’t bring himself to think of it as anything else.

They had his back in the field but there was no one to gripe to when he got back from patrol, or to stay up all night with, eating leftover Chinese and watching alien tv. No one to tell him about sunsets on alien planets while they watched one on Earth.

Jason inhaled deeply on the last little bit of his second smoke and finally knelt down and put it out on the concrete, cupping it in his hand with the first and tossing them in the trash just inside the back door. 

He wasn’t going to leave cigarette butts on the patio for Alfred to find or one of the dogs to eat. He hadn’t even realized how cold he was until he was inside again, teeth chattering and toes numb. Shedding the coat that was at least his this time, since it would inevitably smell like nicotine now, he headed back to his room, hands tucked under his arms. 

Apples was still asleep when he snuck back into his room and he wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed with her and knock out. But he didn’t want his sheets to smell like smoke, so he grabbed a set of pajamas and took a quick shower, letting the water slowly banish the chill in his bones until he was limp and loose limbed. 

The motion of the bed was enough to wake the puppy when he eventually did pull back the blankets and slip in, but all she did was get up and move, curling up in the curve of his stomach where he laid on his side. She had a little trouble with the cone, getting it caught on the blanket trying to lay her head down and letting out a tiny-adorable growl when she jerked her head to the side and Jason huffed a laugh, reaching around and fixing it so it laid flat and she could rest her head on her paws.

He laid there with his hand on her back, feeling her rapid little breaths, and he watched his window. There was nothing, just blackness fading ever so slowly into gray until he finally drifted off. 

  


*

Jason was exhausted when he next woke, but he didn’t have the luxury of sleeping in. The puppy needed to go out, and so he dragged himself up and down to the main floor and through the dining room where Damian was eating breakfast before school and he let her out into the yard. 

It was freezing, and there were little white flakes snaking down from the sky in lazy trails. Apples barely sniffed around before she peed and tried to run back to him. He had to pick her up and put her back in the grass twice before she finally pooped.

“Thank you,” he said, when she came trotting back the third time. She shook her whole body before following him back into the house and allowing Jason to carefully remove her jacket and dry off her wet-muddy paws with a towel. 

Winding their way back through the dining room, prepared to pass Damian and maybe Alfred, they instead came across _everyone._ Somehow he’d missed Cass coming home, because she sat next to Bruce on one side, with Damian on the other and Alfred was pouring himself a cup of tea in the chair nearest the kitchen.

Titus laid on the floor by Damian’s feet and began to sit up as soon as they wandered in but was stilled by a short, _“stay,”_ from Damian. He still wagged his tail, watching them both from across the room. Apples obviously did not like this, but there was no low furniture to dive under and she tucked herself close to him instead, tail down and nearly climbing the backs of his legs as they neared the table.

“Hey, hey, it’s fine, you’re good, it’s safe.” He leaned down, and for once she let him pick her up without trying to squirm out of his grip. There was an awkward lull when Jason wasn’t sure what to do, standing there with Apples in his arms.

Bruce cleared his throat, setting down his coffee mug carefully. “Why don’t you join us?” 

“Uh,” Jason said, lifting his chin to narrowly avoid getting scraped by the cone when Apples spun her head to face the table. “I’m not sure what to do with…”

“She looks comfortable enough to me,” Bruce said, mouth twitching up at the side as Jason shuffled closer to the table. 

He was fairly positive that if Bruce had ever gotten him a dog when he was a kid, letting it sit in his lap at the breakfast table would not have flown, but he didn’t say anything as he hesitantly took the seat next to Cass. 

She grinned at him and pulled a plate his direction, but let him serve himself this time. Apples, entirely nervous at first, being surrounded by so many people she didn’t know, was thoroughly distracted as soon as Jason started setting food on his plate. 

Damian snickered loudly the second time he had to pull her back from the edge of the table, and again when she thumped the edge of the cone against it trying to sniff at his plate. He kept one arm wrapped around her while he ate, mostly to keep her out of his food but...it was also kind of a nice distraction. If anyone watched him a little more carefully than normal, he didn’t notice, focused as he was. 

And it would have been good, if not for the suddenly loud, insistent chirping of Bruce’s and Alfred’s watches, and all of their cell phones. 

It was _loud._ Certainly louder than Jason had set his phone and he didn’t recognize the alert. The way Damian suddenly jumped up from his seat though, it couldn’t be good.

Bruce held out a hand, staring at the screen of his watch with an unreadable expression. Jason dug his phone out as well, as did Cass, a deep crease between her brows. 

_SECURITY BREACH_

Jason felt the tension in his shoulders growing as he clutched Apples a little tighter. 

“It’s alright,” Bruce finally said with a heavy sigh, tapping the face of his watch and pushing away from the table. “I know who it is.” The chirping alarms ceased and Damian scowled.

“If it is anyone but Clark I will give them a sound beating for thinking they can appear uninvited.”

Bruce made an amused noise, scrubbing a hand over his face. “You could try, but I wouldn’t.”

“Who is it?” Jason asked. 

When Bruce made eye contact with him from across the room, he knew. “It’s Constantine.”

Damian’s eyebrows shot up to the ceiling, where he still stood to the side of the table. “What would that third rate magician be doing he-” But then his eyes darted to Jason, and cut off, “oh.”

“Finish your breakfast, Damian,” Bruce motioned to his seat and gave Alfred some sort of meaningful look that Jason couldn’t parse. “You’re still going to school in the next thirty minutes.”

He scoffed, crossing his arms, but he didn’t argue before he sat back down, grumbling under his breath as he picked his fork back up.

And then Bruce’s eyes found their way back to Jason, who still sat frozen in his chair, feeling like a livewire. 

He jumped when Cass set a hand on his arm, still wrapped around Apples, and glanced at her to find her face tense. _“Alright?”_ She signed and Jason blinked, putting a conscious effort into loosening his muscles. 

“Yeah, sure, I’m fine, just...not expecting this so early. It’s cool, though, I uh…” he swallowed, finally pushing up out of his chair, setting Apples on the ground when she wiggled at his grip again, seemingly over her nerves for the time being. She still stuck close to him and when he took a few steps toward Bruce she followed. 

It was a short walk to the grandfather clock, but a long way down the stairs. 

Bruce went in front and Jason watched Apples like a hawk to make sure she didn’t get too close to the edge. She didn’t seem to have a problem with the stairs thankfully, and Jason avoided looking up for as long as possible. Right up until someone spoke.

“About damn time. That alarm of yours is a right pain in the ears.” 

“Constantine,” Bruce greeted when he hit the bottom of the stairs, and Jason finally looked up. 

He was wearing a tan trench coat and smoking a cigarette, which somehow Bruce failed to comment on.

“If you warned me you were coming there wouldn’t have been an alarm.”

“We both know that’s not how I operate.” He was standing by the rows of memorabilia, staring up at the t-rex, squinting until his eyes were nearly closed. 

“How the bloody hell did you get this thing _in_ here?” He swung his attention back to them, turning away from the dinosaur as Bruce approached. 

“Magic.”

Constantine snorted, taking a drag off his cigarette and blowing the smoke behind him, away from the two of them. Jason could see Bruce’s eye twitching already but he still didn’t comment. 

“Right, anyway, I’m here and I’m on a bit of a timer, so can we get to the point? What is it you need? Exorcism?” Sharp blue eyes turned to Jason, “Finally figure out that old bat is actually possessed?”

Jason managed the slightest hint of a laugh, but nothing more, and Constantine gave him a scrutinizing look before his expression shifted. “Oh,” he said then, like he’d realized something, “it’s about this one then.” His voice was lower, more serious.

Bruce stepped to the side, partially obscuring Jason from view and cleared his throat before he could think of a response or wonder what the hell he saw to make him so sure.

“How much do you know about the Lazarus Pits?”

Constantine gave a low whistle, eyes darting from Bruce to Jason, peaking around broad shoulders to get an obvious look. Jason resisted the urge to shrink back and instead, stepped forward, coming up to Bruce’s side. Apples followed closely, coming to a stop with one paw on top of his foot. 

Constantine glanced down at her but made no comment, before staring back at Jason. 

“Is that what it is? Can’t be can it?” He mumbled the last bit to himself, sounding confused.

“Can’t be what?” Jason asked, warily.

“What brought you back from the dead, Zombie Boy.” 

Jason flinched, flushing from his chest to his forehead and Bruce took another microstep forward, like he was stopping from placing himself physically between them again.

“It’s….not, that part is complicated,” Bruce finally said after a stiff pause.

Constantine looked mildly interested, taking a long drag from his cigarette. “I can imagine. So, you came back some other, fascinating way, but not 100% is my guess. And the Pit did the rest?”

Jason swallowed, his throat feeling tight and uncomfortable. “Yes.”

He hummed and nodded to himself for a moment. “I know a bit. What’s the question?” 

Bruce opened his mouth, but Jason knew with sudden clarity, that he didn’t want Bruce to find out - if it turned out that Talia was right, or - whatever it ended up being, Jason didn’t want Bruce to be here for this.

“I wanna talk to him alone,” he blurted, louder than he meant to, just enough to leave a faint echo behind in the cavernous space. He tried not to grimace at it, holding his shoulders firm and tall so when Bruce looked at him with surprise and uncertainty he didn’t wilt from it.

Constantine looked mildly intrigued, but stood still, cigarette hanging from his lips with his hands stuffed in his coat pockets. 

“Jason...I don’t know-” his voice was hesitant, like he was trying to find a way to say no without inciting anger but that was unlikely.

“It’s my life,” Jason groused back, “I don’t need you knowing every gory detail ok. Let me handle it.” It was the wrong thing to say, Jason knew, as soon as the words left his mouth. 

Not because Bruce would fight him, but because for a flash of a second he looked disappointed, and Jason’s stomach squirmed uncomfortably and he shoved down the little voice telling him he was supposed to be trying this whole _trust_ thing. 

“Apples is nervous,” he added, much quieter. It wasn’t untrue, she was shaking, just a little, though he wasn’t sure if it was from the chill of the cave or the unfamiliar situation and the new person. “She should go upstairs, and no one else can watch her right now, she’s not used to them yet-” He was surprised by how the words rushed out of him, a jumble of anxiety forming to life until he realized he was having trouble restraining the upset in his voice and cut himself off. 

This didn’t help the tense line of Bruce’s jaw, a sure sign that he was either angry or concerned, Jason could guess which but for once he sort of wished it was the former. 

“You can…” Bruce began, eyeing Constantine, who was staring between them with a now bored expression. “You can speak in private just...let me know when you’re done.” 

Then he gave Constantine a _look_ Jason only associated with threats, the kind of expression he leveled criminals with in alleys. 

Constantine, for his part, looked nothing but amused but he tilted his head like he was doffing a cap and said, “See you around Bats.” 

Bruce said nothing in return, just knelt at Jason’s side and scooped up Apples, who faithfully attempted to wiggle out of his arms before he got a firmer hold and a hand under her back feet. 

“I’ll be in the den, most likely,” he offered to Jason, giving him one last intense look, like he thought Jason might change his mind, before heading off to the stairs. 

Jason held his ground, kept his shoulders high for long enough he knew Bruce would have disappeared and then he let out a long sigh, closing his eyes for a brief moment before settling them on Constantine. 

“Are we done being dramatic then? We can get on with this?” The cigarette bobbed dangerously, like it might fall right out of his mouth.

“We should go outside.”

He frowned, finally lifting a hand to take the smoke out of his mouth. “Why would we want to be outside? It's freezing as balls out there.” 

“There’s cameras everywhere in here,” Jason griped, gesturing with his chin to a corner where you could make one out, if you knew what to look for. Constantine didn’t, just scoffed.

“Ignoring that I can’t go outside for the next few days, hence my stepping out to come _here_ instead of doing something important, I can handle some security measures.” 

“You can’t go outside?”

He shrugged, “Curse, sun burns my skin. It’ll wear off.”

“Right…”

He popped the cigarette back in his mouth and produced a piece of chalk from nowhere. Leaning down he drew something indiscriminate looking on the stone floor, said something creepy sounding in Latin and then Jason felt the air buzz. He blinked past it, shaking his shoulders out a little. He didn’t like it, but if it meant they wouldn’t show up on video or the sound wouldn’t work or whatever, he could live with it.

Constantine stood back up, grimacing when he did so, putting a hand to his back and vanishing the chalk somewhere. “So, the Lazarus then? I’m not much of an expert, there aren’t many that are, but I know a thing or two. What are you looking for?” 

Jason shifted from one foot to the other, unsure how to answer.

The guy looked like he hadn’t slept in multiple days, or maybe he’d been on a drinking bender, Jason couldn’t be sure, but the longer he hesitated to answer the higher Constantine’s eyebrows rose before he finally tapped his wrist where a watch would sit. 

Jason was strung tight and irritated, and he knew he never liked this guy. 

“Can you see it on me?” he barked, “is it - I need - I can _feel it._ All the time now. Like it’s...like it’s trying to control me. _Is it?”_

Jason swallowed, mouth and throat suddenly very dry in the silence that followed. Constantine sniffed, eyes shifting around the cave for a moment before they came back to rest on Jason. He looked him up and down and frowned.

“Hm.”

“What?” He bristled, hands clenched at his sides. 

Constantine rolled his eyes. “Just thought this would be more important.”

“Fuck you.” The response was stronger than it probably deserved but Jason was already on edge, being in the cave, talking to this asshole he didn’t know about something that made him so damn terrified, alone. 

The guy cocked an eyebrow, a hint of irritation on his face, “that any way to talk to the man doing you a favor? What’s the real problem anyway? Can’t handle a little anger management?” He took a step forward.

“It’s not-” Jason flinched, taking a step back as a puff of smoke was blown right in his face, grinding his teeth so hard it hurt. 

Willis used to do that to him, when he thought he was being annoying.

“It’s not what, pretty boy? Shouldn’t you be used to it by now? Even before the whole nasty business of,” he gestured vaguely to Jason with a look of distaste, “well, you know. You were always a bit of a loose cannon weren’t you?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Jason was trying. Trying not to get angry, or to let himself feel the boiling mess in his stomach, ready to force him to act. Or so he thought.

But who was this guy to say shit like that? How did he even know any of it? But Jason didn’t know enough about him or his powers. The guy could tell he had died once just by looking at him after all. He didn’t like it. 

It felt imbalanced, like he was standing naked in front of someone fully clothed. It set his teeth on edge, everything felt like it was on a hair trigger.

“You called me down here just to see if I could turn you into the perfect brother and son you’ve always wanted to be. Forgive me for my skepticism. I’m a magician, not a genie.”

“That is not-” Jason blinked, completely thrown, trying to keep hands on the chains holding himself back, his whole body was stiff and he took a step backward, trying for distance, something. But Constantine took a step to match him.

“Oh what? It’s not why I’m here? Please. I can see the sap _dripping_ off you.” 

Jason didn’t get it, the aggression, the instant conflict.

_“What is wrong with you?”_

“I’m afraid I can’t fix a bad seed,” he said lazily, gesturing at Jason with the cigarette. 

Jason didn’t say anything. It shouldn’t mean anything to him. This asshole didn’t know him, barely knew the bare minimum of Jason’s story, but it still hit different, wrong it a way that hurt more than it should. That drew up old, unbidden memories of strangers when he was just a little kid, screaming at him to get out of their store, _don’t want your dirty little hands on my product, there’s enough bad seeds around here, just get out and don’t come back!_

“You need to shut up,” he ground out through his teeth, taking a slow, calming breath through his nose, counting backwards in his mind, _something_ to keep from snapping right in front of the magic user they’d invited here apparently just to piss Jason off.

Constantine grinned, just a little bit, like Jason’s reaction was amusing. “No, I think I’ve got every right to be offended. My time is valuable. You’re little speck of a life is nothing in comparison to the things I deal with on the day to day. I can’t be being dragged hither and thither for bullshit like making a sad little boy feel better about himself.” 

He should leave, he thought, absently. Now was when that should happen. “You need to stop,” he whispered instead, feeling frozen and rooted to the floor. 

Constantine stepped forward, right into Jason’s space. “What do you think the issue is? Hm? I think you’ve already got an idea.”

Jason stepped back but Constantine stepped up to meet him, eyes almost accusatory.

“What is your problem? You didn’t _have_ to come-” His voice wavered and he clacked his teeth closed when he took another step, right up until he hit the display case for one of Dick’s old costumes, trapping him in place. 

“Except that I did and it’s feeling like a giant waste of time so tell me - what’s the problem?”

“I don’t _know!”_ He took a step forward, pushing back, feeling a surge through his chest he couldn't ignore. “Why the fuck do you think we asked you here?” It was right there, coming up his throat, like flames, licking at the roof of his mouth. He was bigger and broader than Constantine and when he took the next step, grabbing a fistful of trench coat the older man was forced to look up, a sharp grin on his face before there was a sudden snapping sound.

There was a brief curse, muttered under the breath and then a blinding flash of light and suddenly Jason’s arms were yanked down and behind his back, dragging him to his knees. 

He nearly buckled in half, the way his body refused the motion, letting out an animal cry at the forced submission. It made his skin crawl and he rebelled even while the part of him still in control told him it would do no good. 

The light faded, and Jason was kneeling on the stone floor panting like a racehorse. There were chains wrapped around his arms that were fused directly to the floor. "What the _fuck!"_

Constantine brushed his hands down his front, looking only slightly ruffled, "Hands off."

Jason growled, straining to keep in control, but with his hands bound, panic was welling up with the anger and it was - "Let me up," he said, voice barely under control.

"Give me half a moment and I will." He stepped forward, pulling a pen light from some hidden pocket.

"You need to let me _up."_

He couldn't keep himself from pulling against the restraints, metal rings digging painfully into his skin. He blinked and he saw bright red numbers, counting down, and he couldn't move. He couldn't move his arms, he was-

a hand gripped his chin and Constantine was right there, up in his face, shining some fucking light in his eyes. Jason jerked back, panic warring with unfathomable aggression. He let out a noise he didn’t recognize, something agonized and _loud_ and he pulled as hard as he could, straining his shoulders, his spine.

"Ten seconds, give me ten seconds," he mumbled, the cigarette was gone, vanished somewhere Jason hadn't seen as he stared straight into his eyes, holding his chin in place with a tight grip when he tried to pull back.

He was panting, gasping for air he couldn't seem to get enough of and there was-"Let me _GO!"_ It came out on growl, loud enough to echo in the cave and he _felt_ the Pit in it, like hot acid coming up his throat.

_"There it is."_

He blinked, tried to stay in the cave, in the moment. Constantine was saying something, the light traveling between his eyes like a far off signal but he couldn't hear him, not as hard as he was focusing on not just - not- he couldn't. _He couldn't move. Fuck._

Something jerked, there was a startlingly loud noise and Jason hit the stone floors head first.

 _"Shit!_ Mate, bloody hell, I'm not out to give you a _concussion."_

There were rushed footsteps across the floor, someone kneeling nearby and the panic flared. Jason fumbled, dragging his hands up under him, trying to push himself up, but he felt uncoordinated, disconnected.

"Alright, take it easy."

His eyes blinked in panic at nothing, staring at what he couldn’t see. It took a long moment before what was in front of him came into any sort of focus.

It was just the cave. He was still in the cave, half propped up on his elbows, with some asshole magician crouched nearby. 

“Might want to go slow Mate,” came the soft voice of John Constantine. 

Jason flinched, staring at his wrists, where the skin was scraped red from the floor. His head was pounding and Constantine - He was smoking again, hair sticking up in all directions like he’d been running his hands through it, watching Jason with deep lines around his eyes.

“What the _fuck-_ what-” His voice wavered dangerously, as he managed to push himself up into a seated position, dragging himself back to slump against the display case with Dick's old uniform.

He was shaking all over. Letting his weight rest on the barrier he just tried to get his head to stop spinning.

“Just a little test...worked a little better than I’d intended I’m afraid. You alright?”

“Fuck you,” Jason said, a little reedy and wet and lord he wanted to leave, just retreat back to his room and lick his wounds in peace and not look anybody in the face ever again but his legs felt like mashed potatoes and Constantine was there.

He was there and he had answers and Jason was pretty sure he hated the guy now, but the desperation he’d felt before was only stronger, only pulling him down farther. 

“Yeah, I get that sometimes. Take a minute, if you need one.”

“I don’t need one. I need you to tell me what the fuck you just did and what-” he interrupted himself, a sudden hiccuped breath that made him feel inches away from shaking apart. “What happened.”

Constantine stood up, one hand in his pocket and the other reaching up to pluck the cigarette out of his mouth.

Jason stayed right where he was, sitting on the stone floor, and rested his elbows on his knees and breathed. He recited the poem once, just in his head, and when he opened his eyes Constantine was folding himself down on the floor, criss-cross style with a grunt and a grimace and a little swearing. “I needed to see what we were dealing with here.”

Jason closed his eyes again, feeling shame and anger and _sick_ swirl around in his chest like he was mixing noxious chemicals. “You’re fucking insane- you, you triggered it on _purpose?_ ”

When he opened his eyes again Constantine shrugged, pulling his mouth down in a frown with a mildly apologetic look. “It’s not like you could hurt me.”

Jason let his head fall back, thunking lightly against the display case and he blinked into the arterial lights and breathed for a long time before his mouth would even form words again. “You’re a bastard.”

“...can’t really argue, I’m afraid,” he said quietly, voice low and almost placating and Jason could feel the Pit still, close, agitated like choppy waters, ready to swallow up anyone stupid enough to traverse them. 

It was quiet then, for a while, as Jason took steady breaths and swallowed against the urge to throw up.

“I take it it was like this at the beginning? Easily triggered...probably a bit worse?” Constantine asked, fishing something out of his pocket and finally pulling out a pack of cigarettes.

Jason nodded after a long pause, grudgingly giving up the information. When he slumped back a little, letting his head hang forward and his shoulders curve down, Constantine held out the pack, like an offering. 

Jason didn’t want to take it. 

He was still furious. But exhaustion and anxiety pulled at him harder and he knew it would help. Bruce would probably be pissed but it was the furthest thing from his mind when he finally held a hand out and the pack was tossed his way, followed by a lighter. Jason lit up, and then he pocketed both the pack and the lighter, out of spite.

Constantine cocked an eyebrow but only smirked at the petty theft, taking another drag from his own smoke.

“But it subsided, after a while,” he said, picking the conversation back up. “And now it’s come back on strong.”

Jason only nodded again, staring at the stretch of floor between them, feeling tremors work their way through his shoulders and arms, the cigarette shaking when he held it to his lips.

“Has it ever happened before?”

Jason shrugged, taking a moment to answer, voice rough when he did, “Sure, it’ll come on sometimes but...but not like this. It’s just...all the time now.”

“It’s close to the surface, I can see that.”

Jason looked up, eyes wide. “You can see it? You can- you can tell-?”

He hummed in agreement, tapping his middle finger just below his left eye. “It’s in the eyes, they go a nice green when you’re particularly worked up.”

Jason swallowed, a shiver juddering through him at the comment. He used to wonder, but he thought it was all in his head - that his eyes were lighter now, than they used to be; more teal than blue.

“Do you know - do you know why it’s doing this? It’s a curse right? It’s-it’s- I used to-” Jason found he was startlingly self conscious to admit it, “I used to kill, back then, the bad guys, but I stopped. Could that…”

“Could that have something to do with it? No.” He shook his head, dismissive, wrinkling his nose for a moment. “The Lazarus isn’t...comprehending of anything. There’s no blood curse, if that’s what you mean.”

Jason took another long drag and exhaled, staring at him. “Then what is it?” He asked, throat dry.

Constantine took a deep breath and exhaled. “Like I said, I’m not an expert. The Lazarus is old magic. Old enough that no one knows how it came about in the first place. The theory being - it’s some sort of fountain of youth, but it’s cursed, right? Makes the user go crazy, violent, delusional...until it fades. _If_ it fades, that is.

“...is that not it?” Jason took another drag, feeling the warmth in his lungs try to chase away the static in his brain.

Constantine made a face, “Yes and no. My theory on the Lazarus, which has, mind you, not been researched in the least, is basically - it _was_ a fountain of youth spell gone wrong, but not the way you think. It’s purpose is to heal you. They bring you back from the brink of death, fix any ailment that could eventually kill you - but while the physical effects aren’t permanent, as in, you won’t continue to heal from every mortal wound without taking a second dip, there are other factors at play.”

Jason listened, limbs heavy, breathing smoke through his nose, while Constantine gestured lightly, like the subject was a well debated conversation topic between him and his _mates_.

“Its whole purpose is to keep you alive. But there’s more than one way to do that.”

Jason was exhausted. “Where is this going?”

Constantine stared at him for a moment and leaned back, resting his weight on his hands. “You’re the Hulk.”

Jason lifted his cigarette, staring at it for a long moment in thought. “What.”

He waved a hand in dismissal. “Just, think of it like that. Except instead of turning you into a big green monster when you get angry, it triggers a violent reaction, aggressive behavior in order to keep you safe from whatever danger you’re in. Or...that you feel like you’re in.”

He took a breath, looking self satisfied. “It’s a good analogy.”

“So it’s me,” Jason said, very quietly, feeling hollowed out and echoing. “Talia was right. It’s me. I’m the problem.”

The older man blinked, squinting. “Talia? Al Ghul?” He raised his eyebrows, eyes gone comically large. “I’d take a beat before I’d trust anything she says.”

Jason nearly crushed the cigarette in his hand. “That’s what you just said - you said my anger is triggering this.”

“No,” he shook his head, “that’s what triggers _the Hulk_ in all his glorious-green majesty. The Lazarus is meant to keep you _alive._ When does your adrenaline kick in? When you’re angry? Maybe a little bit, but mostly...it’s when you’re afraid; when you don’t feel safe, kid.”

Jason ground his teeth. “That’s bullshit.”

Constantine snorted, giving a halfhearted shrug. “Hey, it could be. Like I said, I’m no expert.”

Jason sat forward, away from the case, pointing his cigarette at the other man. “No, that doesn’t make any sense - how come it didn’t bother me before then?”

He blinked. “I’m curious. What did the lady Talia tell you? Beyond that it was _you_ that was the issue?”

Jason swallowed, mouth dry, heart pounding. “Nothing, she...”

“She what?”

“She said it was ‘cause I was alone.” The words were almost a whisper, and he could feel the warmth in his face at the admission.

John cocked his head to the side. “Well, I don’t know you too well kid, but that’d be a good enough reason not to feel safe I’d think.”

“I’m a _vigilante,”_ Jason nearly yelled back. “I’ve _killed people,_ I’m in danger all the time, why didn’t it happen before?” 

Constantine shrugged. “People don’t always make sense. Things that frighten some don’t phase others.”

“This is such bullshit, it’s such - no, you know what, whatever, it doesn't matter. Can you fix it?” Jason dragged a hand through his hair, giving Constantine a glare to rival Bruce’s.

“Ooooh,” he cringed, "I’d rather not touch that, I’m afraid.”

“Why not?” Jason asked, voice brittle.

“The glimpse I got earlier? With the-?” He pulled the pen light out of his trench coat pocket, waving it back and forth once before slipping it back in. “It’s wrapped up in you, Mate.”

“What does that _mean?_ ” There was desperation in his voice, he knew, probably close to tears but Constantine seemed unbothered.

“It means it did its magic on you, and it’s there to stay-”

“There’s got to be something- I thought you were _powerful-”_

“Kid,” he leveled him with a flat look, “what you’ve got is a case of severe PTSD with a fantasy sci fi complication thrown in. Trust me when I say it’s not worth the risk of messing with the magic when your best bet is to get your head on straight.”

“My-” Jason nearly choked, shaking his head.

“Listen,” Constantine said, looking even more tired somehow, “we’ve all been messed up. Not least of all the guy with the fur suit.” He gestured around the cave, “This, with the Lazarus, makes it harder. It makes it more complicated, and more dangerous, probably makes the PTSD worse. You’re not crazy for being worried about it. But you’re barking up the wrong tree.

“If I messed with its connection to you, best case scenario, I’d reverse the effects of the Pit. My guess - that wouldn’t be pretty.”

With this, he shifted forward, beginning the arduous process of getting to his feet. 

Jason watched him wince as he pushed to his knees and finally got all the way to his feet.

“Are you hurt?” He didn’t know why he asked, he really didn’t care at this point.

Constantine waved it off. “Ah, there’s always something.” He looked around the cave when he’d straightened up, “I forgot how insane this place is. Anyway, I think I’ve done my service.” He glanced back at Jason, eyeing him up and down.

“You’ll be alright.”

Jason blinked - and then he was gone. Nothing but a flicker of light to signal his departure. 

Jason sat there, feeling himself shiver in the chill of the cave and he tamped out his cigarette on the floor and then just held it there in his hand, resting on his knee. 

There were bruises on his arms he realized, looking down, imprints of the chains they’d been wrapped in earlier. “Fucking bastard,” he whispered to himself, the urge to vomit surging up again. 

He felt like he was made of lead. Like someone poured molten metal in his veins that was slowly solidifying until he was nothing but a statue, heavy and useless.

The thought of going to find Bruce after this...there was no way. He couldn’t go upstairs, couldn’t see anyone. He didn’t want to talk. Not about this stupid meeting or what he’d found out. Not about being taken over, getting so close to letting the Pit win because some asshole was _taunting_ him.

_PTSD with a fantasy sci fi complication._

Fuck. 

His head hurt, a low-throbbing ache that got worse when he shifted to his knees and then his feet. 

Jason stood in the dead space between the display cases and the lab equipment, and that was all he did for a good long while. 

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been down there already. But the idea of facing anyone right then made him want to sink through the floor. And while he stood there, he stared through the cave and his eyes roamed over everything, blank, until they settled on the medical bay. It was separated from the rest of the cave by portable walls - maneuverable in case of multiple patients, minor surgery, whatever the needs might be - something like a faux roof overhead, with its own lights to help during small operations, or to turn off completely when you needed to sleep.

That was about the only thing Jason wanted to do.

Maybe it was stupid, and possibly a little selfish, but he didn’t go back up to the manor. He trudged through the cave into the medical bay, slipped off his shows, dug a blanket out of one of the lower cabinets and dragged himself up onto the nearest cot and laid down. 

It lacked sheets, and the coarse fabric of the cot itself wasn’t particularly comfortable but with the lights off, and his relative warmth under the blanket, Jason didn’t give a single shit. He had no idea how long Bruce would give him before finally deciding it had been too much time and coming to check but in the moment, it didn’t matter.

He closed his eyes, and before he knew it, he was out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: Symptoms of panic attack and the beginnings of a flashback, brief but detailed. A character is physically restrained and panics in reaction. **One character deliberately provokes another with the intention of triggering them**. This is not explicitly stated until afterward and isn't necessarily how the antagonist was thinking about it, but this is one I wanted to be sure to warn for :/ Stay safe!!!! If you want a detailed description of what happened just let me know and we can message on tumblr or discord.
> 
> ________
> 
> Phew....I hope no one hates me for Constantine.... 😬 I enjoy him personally but he can definitely be absolutely horrible sometimes. A very "the ends justifies the means" kind of person...*anyway* if he's a fav sorry 😶.
> 
> I promise Jason will get a happy ending soon 😥
> 
> Please find me on tumblr if you wish: [tumblr](https://batbirdies.tumblr.com).
> 
> Chapter title from Sunlight by Radical Face


	31. Lost myself again and I feel unsafe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason has a difficult day, followed by a difficult night and a long overdue conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings in end notes!
> 
> oof, this chapter got LONG. I hope you enjoy it<33

There was a brief moment when he woke up that Jason didn’t know where he was.

He blinked and turned his head, cheek scraping across the pillow that he hadn’t bothered to put a case over. The blanket was wound up in his legs and only his lower body was even covered by it now.

He hadn’t dreamed, he didn’t think, nothing but fuzzy blankness in the back of his mind. At first he wasn’t even sure what woke him. Not until he caught the sound of voices just outside the portable walls.

_“Is he alright? It’s been hours,”_ Alfred asked, voice low, worried.

_“I don’t know, he’s asleep in there,”_ Bruce’s low baritone, unreadable from where Jason was.

_“Could it have been Constantine?”_ He heard footsteps in the cave, the distinct clipped noise of Alfred’s leather shoes. _“Do you think he did something? Some sort of-”_ a shadow filled the doorway and Jason blinked at it, not fully registering. “My goodness,” his voice was relieved and just from his silhouette Jason could see his shoulders sag.

“What is it?” Bruce pushed past him into the room and then the lights came on at their lowest setting. Jason still squinted, raising an arm to rub at his face. “Jason,” his voice gave nothing away, but then he was there, next to the bed, and curling a hand around his wrist. “What happened?”

Jason swallowed, mouth sticky and warm as Bruce pulled his hand away from his face and frowned down at the thick line of bruises that snaked up his arm and disappeared under his sleeve. “Are you alright? What is this?”

“Give me thirty seconds to wake up, Christ.”

Despite his lack of cooperation the words seemed to have a calming effect on both Bruce and Alfred, who still hovered by the doorway.

Jason pulled his arm out of Bruce’s grip and slowly sat up, letting his legs fall over the edge of the cot and bundling the blanket up next to him. He was overly warm now, shirt sticking to him with sweat.

Bruce stood back, eyeing him critically, and finally released a sigh. “Are you-”

“I’m fine, B. Just tired.”

“What happened? Why are there bruises on your arms?” There was a hint of steel to his voice that brought back the _look_ he’d given Constantine before he’d been banished upstairs.

Jason looked down at them himself. They were still mostly a light brown but he had no doubt they’d darken by that night and into the next day. At least it was winter and he could wear long sleeves without comment.

“It was a test, I guess,” he said, voice rasping before he cleared his throat, stomach twisting at the reminder.

“What sort of test?” Alfred asked, coming up to the cot and picking up the wadded up blanket. He was frowning, that particular downward angle to his mustache that always reminded Jason of a sad clock face.

He shrugged, an uncomfortable prickling at the back of his neck. “How should I know? I’m no magician.”

They both frowned harder, and Jason knew it was obvious he was avoiding the question but he just didn’t want to talk about it.

There was another pause as Alfred began carefully folding the blanket Jason had discarded, which was funny; because there was no way he would put it back in the cabinets without washing it first.

“Why were you sleeping in here?” Bruce finally asked, arms folded across his stomach, gripping both of his elbows.

Jason heaved a breath and scrubbed at his face with both hands. “I was tired. Still pretty damn tired actually. Hey wait-”

He looked up, glancing between them quickly. “Where’s Apples? You were supposed to watch her-”

“I left her in your room, in case Constantine was still here. She’s fine.”

Jason swallowed, maybe a little self conscious.

“Was it a side effect of something? The tiredness? Did Constantine…” Bruce’s face twitched, like he hated the very idea of what he was about to say, “did he perform some kind of spell on you?”

Jason huffed a breath and shrugged, feeling a base sort of numbness that wouldn’t budge. “Sure.”

“Jay,” he said his name on a breath, eyebrows drawing up in the center and dropping his arms. “It’s been hours. It’s nearly dinner time. I know you wanted privacy but-” he stopped, lips pressed thin.

“Forgive us our concern. Master Constantine is not always to be trusted, as I hear it.” Alfred finished, blanket folded neatly over his arm.

Jason thought, a little wryly, _I wonder why that is,_ as he rubbed at the bruise around his left wrist.

“Yeah well, I’m whole and hale and all that, so you don’t need to worry.” Hale might be a stretch. He still felt like part of him had been shaken loose, like if he looked for them he’d find bits and pieces of himself scattered across the floor.

Bruce released a barely audible sigh before slipping his hands into his pockets, like he was resisting the urge to cross his arms again. “Did he find anything?” he finally asked, voice hushed.

Jason felt his jaw strain, eyes flitting across the room before he gave in and shook his head. He wasn’t even sure if he was lying or not, if what Constantine told him counted as _something._

Bruce nodded, eyes darting over his face. He didn’t look surprised and Jason shifted uncomfortably at the attention.

He didn’t even look at Alfred.

“Alright,” Bruce said, “that’s ok. There are other avenues to explore. I’d like, with your permission, to contact a couple scientists to get more in depth blood analysis, maybe run a couple MRI’s-”

“No,” Jason interrupted, surprising even himself as he slipped off the cot. His back hurt now, thanks to sleeping folded up on a hospital bed. “Not-” he stopped, breathing hard and feeling nauseous. He shook his head. “I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

His voice came out small and he grit his teeth against the frailty of it.

Bruce looked torn. Lips pressed thin, eyebrows drawn together, _concerned_ and silently questioning.

“This was only one thing. There are plenty of other places to look for answers.”

Jason moved then, taking steps toward the door for the first time, slipping past Alfred and averting his eyes from Bruce. “Just drop it. You can’t-” he cut himself off as he entered the main floor of the cave before he said something stupid.

He knew he should just tell him. Just let Bruce know that Talia called and what she said but he couldn’t even stomach thinking about it then and so he fled up the stairs, knowing Bruce would let him go. Let him “ _cool off”_ before they talked again. “I’m gonna go check on Apples,” he offered quietly when he hit the first steps, vanishing like the coward he was.

Bruce tried to say something as he started up them but Jason didn’t pause to listen. Nor did he pause when he hit the top of the stairs, just opened the clock into the kitchen and nearly stumbled when he came across Tim, Stephanie, and Cass.

Whatever conversation they were having cut off suddenly and all three pairs of eyes were on him.

“Oh, you’re done then,” Tim said after an awkward silence.

Jason nodded, jaw frozen, avoiding looking at Cass who was sitting at the counter, eyes sliding over Stephanie where she stood in front of the electric mixer, pouring something in.

“Holy crow, what happened to your arms?” She asked, setting down the measuring cup.

Jason stiffened, glancing down at the bruises that looked somehow more vibrant under the kitchen lights.

_“Steph,”_ Tim hissed, frowning at her.

“What?” she said back, equally annoyed, “he looks like he got attacked by a tentacle monster.”

In spite of himself, and the entire situation, Jason snorted. “It’s nothing.”

He resisted the urge to rub at the sore spots. “Just some...magic test.” He shrugged.

So far Jason hadn’t really talked about his _problem_ much. Outside of an emotionally charged conversation with Dick and a planned intervention by Tim. Jason was never the one to bring it up and he had no desire to talk about it. Especially not now.

“Did they,” Tim started, before cutting off and licking his lips. “Did Constantine find anything?” He was holding a bowl in one hand, a fork in the other, sifting something together Jason didn’t have the mental capacity to care about.

“I’m gonna go check on Apples,” he said in lieu of answering, turning away from whatever baking project they were in the middle of and leaving the room with zero other explanation. He was sure it wasn’t helping his reputation, but they were lucky they got what they did, because all Jason wanted to do was crawl back into bed.

He stopped around the corner, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyelids briefly and just wishing none of this was happening.

He should have never stayed in Gotham. Never made the agreement with Bruce. He could have gone on with Roy and Kori for as long as he wanted and everything would have been fine.

Except that his stomach twisted up at the idea. Of still...he didn’t know what changed really, in the last few months, but he didn’t want to go back to that. To offing the bad guys, even though they deserved it. He felt lighter, since he’d stopped, less weighed down by the heaviness of his decisions.

And then there was Bruce, and the rest of the family and he didn’t want to give that up either, even if he missed the way things were easier before.

_“Way to go Bird Brain,”_ Jason heard Stephanie’s voice filter in from the kitchen.

_“I didn’t know what else to say,”_ Tim shot back, defensive. _“At least I didn’t tell him he looked like he was attacked by a tentacle monster.”_

_“He laughed at that, so screw you.”_

_“He is not good.”_

Jason blinked at Cass’s voice and felt his stomach drop, hunching his shoulders and taking another step away, hoping he didn’t somehow run into Damian in the next room.

_“What do you mean?”_ He heard Tim ask, voice quiet.

_“Anxious,”_ she said, _“anxious, bad._ Bad.” There was a hint of urgency in her voice, the sound of movement, crinkled packaging and an uncomfortable quiet that Jason was somehow still hovering around to hear.

_“...should I call Dick? Maybe?”_ Tim asked, a hint of anxiety in his own voice. _“He’s closer to him…”_

Jason nearly turned around and went back just to tell them _not_ to call Dick, but Stepahnie cut in first.

_“Don’t. If it were me I would not appreciate that. Just...let him be. For a little bit.”_

Jason didn’t stick around to hear anything else. He went back to his room, managing to avoid Damian, who was in the den, playing video games from the sound of it.

On entering his room Apples lifted her head from where she was laying in the dog bed they’d brought home from Tim’s. She jumped up, halfway falling out of it when the cone caught the edge before she ran to him, tail wagging.

She was more enthusiastic every time she saw him now and as soon as the door shut behind him Jason spread himself boneless over the floor. Rolling over on his back, he let her lick, sputtering a bit when she went for his face.

_“Ok, alright-”_ he half laughed, gently pushing her back and holding her to his side instead, where he scratched under the edge of the cone and watched her nearly fall over from leaning into it.

“I know, that thing’s a pain in the ass huh?”

Her answer was to rub the entire left side of her body across the floor and up Jason’s side, dragging his shirt up with the edge of the cone until he carefully stopped her and pulled it back down.

“Yeah, I can tell.”

She rolled around a bit more before calming down, flopping half across his chest and resting her head on her paws while Jason petted softly at her side. “Sorry I abandoned you to Bruce. Didn’t do me much good in the end.”

He let out a heavy sigh and stared at the ceiling. He didn’t know what to do.

Not that there _was_ anything to do apparently.

God, he just...why did everything end up like this? Why did he always have the wrong idea? Why did he screw everything up so badly _every_ time?”

He didn’t want to tell Bruce. Or any of them, now that they all knew about it.

But now Bruce was spending who knew how much time and energy on trying to figure out what was wrong with him, when really, it was nothing new. Nothing different. Just the same old problems as always that Jason could handle on his own before he suddenly turned into a frantic mess for no fucking _reason._

He wished he’d never let Dick tell everyone. Wished he hadn’t let Bruce talk him into staying at the manor. Wished-

Apples licked the very underside of his chin, shuffling around and wagging her tail across the carpet, head still resting on his chest.

Jason sighed, gently pushing her off and grabbing the little stuffed star that had made its way under the bed. He slid himself back on the carpet, propping his shoulders against the bed and squeezing it, smiling at the sudden head-tilt, ears-up look of curiosity at the high pitched sound. He tossed it across the floor and she went bounding after it.

Though he’d napped for hours apparently, it felt like nothing. Felt like he’d been awake for days. To be fair it probably didn’t make up for the two nights of sleeplessness he’d endured.

But it was probably a little bit more than that.

Constantine was a bastard. Jason had known it before and maybe he couldn’t have expected a warning, maybe it wouldn’t have _worked_ , but...hell would freeze over before Jason ever thought of returning the “favor”.

He felt sick, and twisted up.

It had been so easy. Constantine didn’t even know him and he’d been able to jab enough at his vulnerable parts to trigger a strong enough reaction from the Pit that Jason didn’t even remember it. Not beyond the overwhelming anger and fear. Which was terrifying in itself. He thought...he thought he still had more control than that.

Thank god he’d sent Apples up with Bruce, he thought, as she rolled on her back with the toy in her mouth, clumsily mouthing at it until she managed to get it wedged between her puppy jaws and the side of the cone.

“Goodness sake,” Jason shook his head, not quite laughing but reaching forward and plucking it out of the cone, dragging it back across the floor.

It was a quiet evening. He didn’t dare nap again for fear of his dreams despite how tired he was. But no one came to his door until almost nine, long past when Jason had been expecting visitors. No one even bothered him when he slipped outside with Apples.

It was Bruce that knocked, unsurprisingly, and Jason found him with a carefully saran wrapped dish and a cupcake, on a small serving plate.

His expression was hesitant, but then he said, “I’ve been sent to make sure you eat something.”

Jason huffed a breath and shook his head, taking both plates carefully.

“Thought it was bad for digestion to eat right before bed,” he said as he walked them back to his desk.

Bruce took a careful step into the room, shoulders losing a little tension, kneeling down to greet Apples who happily said hello. “I’m told it’s better than going without.”

Jason hummed noncommittally, eyeing the cupcake in the little tinfoil cup before picking it up carefully. “Did...Steph and them make these?” It had what looked like cream-cheese frosting and an orangy sponge cake underneath.

“Yes, Stephanie’s idea.” Bruce was standing near the bed now, and smoothed a hand over the front of his shirt, pressing out non-existent wrinkles. “I’ll warn you though, it’s not for you. I’m told it’s…” he paused, seeming mildly concerned, “called a _pupcake.”_

Jason stared at it and then back at Bruce. “A what now?”

Bruce looked bemused, and shook his head with a sigh. “I’m told the main ingredient in the frosting is _potato._ I doubt you’d enjoy it very much.”

“This is for _Apples.”_

Bruce nodded, stepping closer to the bed and taking a seat. “Everyone is eager to make friends.”

Jason cleared his throat, feeling suddenly guilty. “Right. I guess that’s...probably part of why they all came over, huh?”

Bruce looked up, eyes searching. “They got to spend a little time with her. Tim is still a favorite, apparently.”

“Yeah?” Jason shifted, setting the _pupcake_ back down, not really sure what to say now.

“I thought the cake might be a reward,” Bruce offered after a pause, turning his attention back to the puppy, who was gently mouthing at his slipper. “Hopefully she’ll associate me more with the cake than the ointment.”

Jason huffed an amused breath, rubbing at the back of his neck before he took the hint and grabbed the ointment off his nightstand and handed it over. For his part he scooped her onto the bed and coaxed her easily into his lap, where she shoved her face into the crook of his elbow as soon as the cap was off the tube.

Bruce stared at her for a moment, amusement warring with sympathy on his face. “She’s very dramatic.”

“Sure is, you two’ll get along great.”

Bruce snorted, raising his eyebrows as he leaned in to start dabbing at the skin on the backs of her legs. The fur was starting to come back in, just a hazy tan fuzz over pink skin.

She didn’t slink out of his lap this time when they were done, and Jason just held her, counting it as a victory.

Bruce smoothed a hand down her back a couple times before he pushed himself up from the bed and got the _pupcake_ off the desk. He started to hand it to Jason but he shook his head.

“Nah, you should give it to her. Like you said, she might not hate you for it.”

Bruce gave him a narrow eyed look but only for a moment before he peeled the wrapped down the sides and then stopped, eyeing the bed.

“She’ll get crumbs all over your comforter.”

“It’s fine.”

Bruce hesitated, grumbling under his breath for a moment, “Alfred will hate me for this,” before he sat back down on the edge and held it out, palm flat underneath it.

Jason nudged her around, just enough to get her pointed in the right direction so she could see it. The reaction was immediate and she pushed herself up on her front legs, hesitating for only a moment before moving out of his lap and sniffing at the cake. She tried to pick it up and take it but Jason stopped her, holding her hips in place so she at least ate over the wrapper.

Bruce was right, it was pretty much a massacre, but she wagged her tail through the whole thing.

If Jason had been thinking he would have taken a video. He was sure Stephanie would ask about it later, but he was too bone tired to register the thought. It was really damn cute though, and watching Bruce look all soft at the puppy even while he made a low, disgusted noise when she started licking the bedspread had Jason laughing in spite of his awful mood.

“See, no crumbs,” he half laughed when Bruce shook his head, mouth pinched, because in the place of crumbs stood a damp patch of dog slobber.

It was near his feet, he’d wash everything the next day, he figured.

And then Bruce let out a soft breath and sat back, watching Apples continue to sniff across the blankets like another cake might pop out of the seams, ointment incident completely forgotten. It was quiet for a minute, long enough that Jason could tell there was something Bruce was working up to say and he felt himself unconsciously hunching over his knees.

“I hope this hasn’t...discouraged you too much.” Bruce rested his hands in his lap, eyes drifting across the bed to land on Jason’s, gripped tensely around each other.

He didn’t say anything, because there wasn’t anything he _could._ Because Constantine hadn’t found what Jason was looking for but he’d still found the cause. Or knew it to start with - didn’t matter. Jason apparently hadn’t needed him at all. Could have skipped the entire horrifying ordeal if he’d just listened to Talia to start with.

“Bruce, I don’t-” he swallowed, unsure where he was going.

“I know,” his voice was quiet, and he reached forward and rested a hand on Jason’s knee, giving it a brief squeeze. “I’m only….” he seemed to struggle for words for a moment, eyes following Apples as she finally gave up in her search for more crumbs and found her way back to Jason. “You just seem worn out...like you haven’t been sleeping.”

He looked up and regretted it. Because the strained look of concern on Bruce’s face just made him feel like shit. Because apparently there was nothing to worry about. No escalating situation, no real reason to fear. He’d made all of them so worried, and they’d _cared_ , so much more than he’d expected and now he just felt like he’d been lying to all of them. Like some sick draw for attention.

He took a breath, sitting up straighter and doing his best to seem more put together, less tired. “You’re right, I didn’t get a lot of sleep the last couple nights, but I’m fine B. Apples isn’t used to it here yet, she’s squirmy.”

Bruce eyed him skeptically, for long enough he was afraid he wouldn’t accept the excuse but eventually, he nodded. “Alright...if it’s anything else...you know where to find me.”

“Sure, yeah,” Jason readily agreed, swallowing against a pang of guilt.

“Everyone said to tell you goodnight.”

His stomach twisted that little bit further.

“T...tell ‘em goodnight back, I guess. And tell Steph thanks, if she’s still here.”

Bruce nodded along, finally pushing himself to his feet. He reached out at the last moment, resting a hand on his shoulder, before he went to the door, slippers shushing softly over the carpet. “Sleep well, Jay.”

“Night, Bruce.”

He sat there for a long time after he left, petting softly at Apples’ fur while he stared at the plate still sitting on his desk and told himself he should eat something, but his all around queasiness still hadn’t abated.

He wanted to just...he just wanted to stop feeling like this.

Maybe things would look better in the morning. Maybe they’d make more sense. Maybe if he slept he wouldn’t feel so close to shaking apart.

*

  
  


With the way his day had gone Jason had expected the nightmares. But somehow they still surprised him.

*

  
  


It did not happen slowly, like some of his dreams did. There was no gradual increase of tension, or subtle climbing anxiety.

They hit hard and fast.

*

  
  


There was laughter. Laughter so loud that it sounded like screams to Jason’s ears.

He could barely breathe, the way his ribs were crushed in. The concrete beneath him wasn’t cold, it was hot like the desert outside. He strained to move, but his body wouldn’t obey him. He felt like he was made of jelly, like his limbs were bags of sand, heavy and amorphous.

But the scene swam in his head.

It was the warehouse, and then he blinked, and it was the street.

It was a bag of heads and blood on his hands and a burning, straining, _twisting_ agony in his being that wrapped so tight around his insides that it felt like fingers digging into his soul.

There was a _smell_ to it all, sulfurous and humid and it stung his nose with every labored breath, a green haze that filtered over everything.

He was at home, but it wasn’t home _now,_ it was back then. His hands were small, his shoulders narrow and he hid under the dining room table while the walls and ceiling shook from the earthquake that was his father’s voice. He clutched at table legs to keep from jolting out from under it, watched plaster fall and walls crumble until he was buried in it.

And then he was _buried in it._

And there was light, and noise, and someone hefting stones and rubble away from his body and it was Bruce, and he was...it was still _then_ but it wasn’t _back_ then _._ And Bruce...Bruce was there, he was touching him, hands over his face, his chest, his ribs, so soft it didn’t even hurt and he was talking, saying Jason’s name, over and over, louder and louder.

Jason wanted to answer him but his voice wouldn’t come out, there was no sound, no breath in his lungs but there he was, in his body. Nothing would move.

No part of him.

Even while he raged inside and Bruce...Bruce cried. He cried and he _cried_ and Jason didn’t - this wasn’t - he wasn’t _dead._ But he couldn’t say it and - and he couldn’t remember this.

He couldn’t remember this. He knew that. This wasn’t. This didn’t happen. But it was happening, now.

He didn’t blink.

But he opened his eyes, and no one saw. He was lying down, staring up at the blue sky and where was he? There was someone speaking, nearby, a soft-droning voice. He was laying on something soft, like silk, and he was wearing a suit and it was...this didn’t happen.

There were edges to the bed that wasn’t a bed, hands curved around it. A shadow leaned over him, but this didn’t happen. Dick was there, he was crying, and this didn’t happen. Because Dick hadn’t been there. Jason knew that.

And there was no open casket.

And Bruce didn’t stand over him, or put a hand on his head, and brush his fingers through his hair, because this didn’t happen.

Jason knew that. He wanted to tell them.

He wasn’t dead. This wasn’t his funeral. This is not what happened.

But Jason couldn’t move.

He couldn’t move. And someone was there, and there was - it was closing, there was a lid, closing right on top of him and it was dark, and it was suffocating and Jason couldn’t _move he couldn’t think he couldn’t breathe._

This isn’t what happened.

But that didn’t stop it from happening.

Everything was soft, and fuzzy, and quiet and then it was burning and bright and green and even then he couldn’t move. Felt acid burn through his veins and agony in his soul and he _moved_ but he didn’t.

It wasn’t him.

There was something else inside him. Pushing him away, back, _down_ _and down and down_ until it was just dark, and empty, and he could hear noise and chaos up above him. Violence and terror and fear that reached for him even as deeply as he was buried.

And it’s not what happened.

There was a pulse beating in his head, knocking hard against the inside of his skull like something trying to get _out._ It was a thought, fleeting and unformed, hitting him and vanishing and hitting him again.

_This isn’t real._

_He needed to wake up._

It clanged like a bell in his head, explosions in his ears. _He just needed to wake up._

There were chains around his wrists and ankles.

He was sinking in an ocean.

_He needed to wake up._

Something else was walking around in his body, wearing him like a suit.

_He had to wake up._

It couldn’t think, it didn’t know him, this wasn’t what he _wanted._

_Wake up._

It hurt, everything hurt. There was fire, somewhere - he smelled smoke.

_Wake up._

It was dark, there was - someone was _sitting on his chest._ He couldn’t _breathe._

There was a sharp, loud noise, and something warm and wet slid across his face.

_Wake up._

Scratching at his arm, a high whine and a tongue over his closed mouth and Jason _jolted._

*

  
  


Coming back to consciousness was like ice water down his spine.

He gasped, dragging in air like a drowning man.

There was a sharp, high pitched yelp and paws on his chest and in the dark of the room Jason flinched a second time, eyes blinking into blank space, as a dim shape crowded in close and Apples licked frantically at his face.

He grunted, turning his head away and clumsily untangling his arms from the blankets.

He couldn’t form words to calm her down, but she wiggled her whole body, climbed over his chest to his other side and then back again before he managed to wrap his arms around her and hold her still.

She let out a whine, licking at whatever skin of his arm she could reach.“Shhhh,” he managed after a moment, breath coming out shaky as he let go with one hand and pet at her back, stroking rhythmically down to her tail and just _breathing_ as steadily as he could.

His head was spinning. His chest hurt and there was nothing left but a throbbing ache in his head when he tried to remember it.

His hands shook, and his fingers were frozen even when he buried them in soft fur.

“I’m ok,” he whispered after a long time of just laying there, blank mind and frantic breaths slowly calming.

Apples still squirmed and he let her up from his side just for her to climb directly back on his chest and lick at his face.

“Stop, st-” Jason moved, turning his head and pushing himself unsteadily until he was sitting up and she sat back into his lap, tail thumping against his legs.

“....yeah,” he breathed, “I’m not gonna be able to sleep after that either.”

He reached over to his nightstand, knocking over the ointment and almost shoving a book on the floor before he managed to wrap his hand around his cell phone and check the time. It was barely after midnight. He hadn’t even been asleep for more than a couple hours, if that.

But now he was _wide awake_. The idea of laying back down and trying to sleep sent anxiety shivering through his system and with it, the thought of every nightmare he’d had in the last sixth months, trying to shove themselves into his head in one night.

Apples wiggled out of his lap too and he let her, watching as she eyed the edge of the bed, lowering her shoulders down like she wanted to jump off. He grabbed her first, waiting to see her catch the cone on the bedspread and face-plant in the carpet, and he set her down carefully. She sniffed at the floor, turning circles a few times and sitting down, then standing up again, sitting down.

“Seems like somebody’s gotta pee.”

It felt oddly like a relief to drag himself out of bed, pulling on a thick sweatshirt and socks but staying in his pajamas, walking the puppy down the halls and watching her clumsily take the stairs to the main floor. It didn’t matter that the deep-in-his-bones tiredness pulled at him because on the surface, everything was vibrating. His body was a contradiction and his brain was spitting sparks in the in between, trying not to feel his achy joints and stiff muscles.

He suited Apples up, pausing halfway through when his brain shorted out, having to take the jacket back off, put on the harness, and then the jacket back on. He hadn’t done this enough times for it to be a habit yet and it required just enough thought to be frustrating to his shattered mind. Finally he clipped on her leash, ducked into his winter coat, hanging by the door, and slipped outside.

His coat smelled like old cigarettes and a craving hit him so sharp it almost hurt. He stuffed his free hand in his pocket, snapping his fingers together in a repetitive motion. He’d forgotten the fidget toy and his other hand gripped the leash like a vice as they went just beyond the patio.

Apples sniffed, circled twice, and peed as soon as they hit the grass and Jason told himself he couldn’t have another cigarette. Even though there was a nearly fresh pack and a new lighter stashed in with his old carton under the bed. Three smokes in as many days was too many.

Smoking was already a crutch, he didn’t need it to develop back into a full blown addiction when he had all this other shit going on. So he grit his teeth against the urge and breathed in the stale scent on his coat and told himself he’d toss it in the washer as soon as he went back inside.

But his hands shook still, and he knew a smoke would help. He shook his head.

A cigarette might help the shakes but it wouldn’t calm his racing heart or stop him from feeling like absolute shit.

He was antsy, like he had been the first few days after he recovered from the infection. He needed to move, to do _something,_ while simultaneously just wanting to drop unconscious.

Wind blew frigid through his pajama pants and he shivered, hunching his shoulders and propping his collar up against the breeze. Apples didn’t even walk to the end of her leash, she sniffed at the snow on the ground, a thin layer still frozen from the day before, and she retreated back, trotting up on the patio and pulling him toward the house. Jason didn’t want to go back inside but he also didn’t want to stay out, so he followed.

He felt sluggish pulling off his coat, toeing off his boots, and bending down to get apples out of her getup. They went into the kitchen and she drank from her water dish while Jason got himself a glass too. He’d slept most of the day, he was sure he hadn’t had enough earlier.

He was _so exhausted_ but he felt so wired, and he knew if he tried to lay back down he’d never actually fall asleep, and if he did - the dreams would come back just as bad and he didn’t...it would be stupid to put himself back into that. Apples woke him up this time and he’d been ok, but Jason had woken up violent from dreams before and he had to calm down before he slept or it would be a risk.

Jason knew there were sleeping pills in the cave, stashed in one of the medical cabinets for when they were needed. They kept them on hand for nights with scare toxin. It was some special formula, supposedly you wouldn’t dream when you were on them, but Jason didn’t know because he’d never tried any. He’d been on a few sedatives for medical treatment, took pain pills sparingly when it was really bad, but old trauma doesn’t just die and he’d never been comfortable taking anything potentially addictive.

Usually he could live without all of it. His pain tolerance was high and he’d learned to live with shoddy sleep. They all had.

But he’d never felt quite as desperate for a way to just stop thinking.

He knew his hang ups were exactly that, but it wasn’t like he was unfamiliar with addiction. Even now when he rarely smoked it still felt impossible to kick the habit completely.

But one night. It was one night and if he could get a single good night’s sleep after the last three he might be able to think straight. He hesitated, holding his glass over the sink and staring into the bottom of it. Apples wandered over, looking up at him and sitting down, wagging her tail a couple times.

Jason set the glass down, leaning over and scratching behind her ears before he patted his leg for her to follow and went for the grandfather clock.

He was only wearing socks, which was fine, but it always felt weird in the cave, some strange cross between an indoor and outdoor space. Walking down in his pajamas made him feel like a little kid, and after the freezing temperatures outside, the ever-present chill of the cave had him shivering by the time he hit the bottom of the stairs.

The medbay was beyond the lab equipment, and the locker room. Past the supercomputer with the blank-dead screen. Just seeing it reminded him of the night before, with Talia, and he swallowed roughly, picking up his pace. The little clacking of Apples’ claws on the floor as she followed after him helped him focus, and it only took him a minute to find the right bottle once he’d started looking.

Pulling it down from the cabinet, the pills clattered against the sides, loud in the quiet of the empty room and Jason swallowed. It was mostly full, run-ins with fear toxin were rare these days with their rebreathers and the multiple formulas of antidote they carried with them on patrol.

He took a breath and unscrewed the cap, starting to shake one out into his palm. But of course, his hands were still trembling, enough that he overdid it and sent a surge of pills spewing out the top. He managed to clutch most of them in his other hand but a few went cascading to the floor, ricocheting off the stone and scattering under cabinets and medical cots.

Jason swore under his breath and then swore _again_ when Apples went chasing after one.

_“Apples No!”_ He dumped the pills in his hand back in the bottle and went fumbling after her.

It was an overreaction, and he was too loud, and _big_ and as soon as he took two steps toward her she was cringing down to the floor. He reached out and she scrambled back until her butt hit the cabinets. Jason froze, taking a deep, shaky breath and feeling his stomach drop to the floor.

“It’s ok,” he whispered, slowly lowering himself to his knees. “It’s alright, you’re not in trouble.”

“C’mere,” he patted his legs, keeping his voice low and soft. “It’s ok.”

She watched him with her ears down, for a long, drawn out moment before she slowly crawled across the floor, belly and cone low enough to scrape across the stone until she reached him and stopped, just sitting there shivering.

Jason’s chest hurt and his eyes burned and he very gently stroked a hand down her back until she crawled up into his lap and he curled an arm around her. “It’s ok,” he kept repeating, low and quiet, as he scooted himself up against the nearest cabinet and leaned his head back, skull hitting the door with a quiet thud. He was breathing hard, heart beat fast and _painful_ , like someone had punched him in the chest.

She licked at the hand she could reach, insistent and _sorry_ and Jason felt like - he didn’t know.

It wasn’t a big deal. It shouldn’t be. It was just a mistake and Apples was fine and she wasn’t so scared she didn’t come to him but he just-.

His lip trembled and he slipped it between his teeth and bit down, hard enough to hurt and then he very carefully, very gently, adjusted the puppy in his grip and stood up. She scrabbled at his hold until she had both of her front legs wrapped around his neck like she was trying to hold on.

He walked out of the room, and he stared at the desk in front of the computer, across the open floor and he walked over and sunk down into the chair.

It was big, but it fit Jason now, his head no longer hit halfway up the backrest. He remembered sitting and spinning in this chair when he was little. Though it had surely been replaced since then, it must have been the same model. It felt the same.

Apples settled down as soon as he was no longer standing, curling up against his stomach as he sent them in one slow circle, eyes drawing across the desk as they spun. He recognized a comm, laying there, as they completed the loop. It must have been the same one from the night before, he realized. The one Bruce had left out in case he wanted to contact him.

Jason swallowed, throat painfully tight. Without thinking about it he picked it up, switching it on and slipping it into his ear.

There was nothing but a very soft buzz, and then the sound of wind rushing past - Batman wasn’t talking. Jason didn’t know if Robin was out with him or not.

He sat like that for a long time, just listening. Apples shuffled herself around until her head was propped on the arm rest and Jason carefully hung his arm over it and stroked her ear, watching her for a long time; until her eyes fluttered closed and she was asleep.

He could still just hear wind on the other end of the comm. Nothing important. Nothing he might be potentially distracting the man from if he decided to speak up. His mouth felt dry.

Jason closed his eyes and took a breath.

“Hey, B.” His voice was ok at first, steady enough, and Bruce’s response was immediate.

_“Hood? Is everything alright?”_

“Yeah, I’m fine just...I mean…” His throat clogged, voice wavering dangerously before he clamped his mouth shut and closed his eyes, leaning forward and pressing his nose to the top of Apples’ head, the cone scraping across his cheek.He felt heat creep up his neck, embarrassed and _stupid._

Bruce was quiet for a long time. It was still just wind and Jason thought he must be standing at the top of a skyscraper, on some gargoyle just looking out at the city like he did on slow nights. “I had a nightmare.”

It came out quiet and strangled, half muffled into the puppy’s fur and Jason felt pathetic and all of twelve years old.

_“Alright,”_ Bruce said, losing the gravel in his voice, sounding unsure. _“Do you want to...tell me about it?”_

Jason felt so selfish, Bruce was putting up with all his bullshit and for what reason? He felt so stupid. So stupid and hopeless. He didn’t deserve this. All of this was his own damn fault, he was too dumb to realize where it was all coming from and now what? There wasn’t even any reason for him to be there but the thought of going back to his apartment, alone, was somehow terrifying.

Before he knew what was happening he was crying.

_“Jay?”_ It was his real name, a breach in protocol and that only made it worse. There was a harsh breath over the line and then, _“Jay, listen to me, I promise you we will find a solution to this-”_

And then Jason just _burst,_ “You can’t! You can’t because it’s not more magic or a curse or whatever! It’s _me_.” He dragged in a ragged breath, pushing himself back in the chair and blinking up at the ceiling. “Talia called last night and we talked about it and she said it’s like - _stress_ or some bullshit like that and then Constantine said the same thing that it’s - it’s because I’m fucking _scared._ It’s just - it’s all in my friggin’ _head_.”

He choked off, Apples was wiggling around again, woken up by his half shouting and he tried to settle for her, let her lick at his chin while he tried to reign in his labored breathing.

When Bruce next spoke, after a short pause, his voice was very soft, _“Jay, it’s not all in your head.”_

“It is! It fucking is!” It came out loud again, enough to echo through the cave and he lowered his voice to a barely suppressed whisper-shout to not frighten Apples. “I didn’t want to believe her but she’s right. I know she is, it all lines up with when Roy and Kori left that it started and then I just fed into the whole stupid thing and I thought it was some bullshit curse like an _idiot_ and-”

_“Jay,”_ Bruce interrupted, voice firm, “ _this is not all in your head.”_

“Then what do you call it?” He didn’t snap, holding Apples close, but it was a near thing. “I’m so messed up that I’m making it do this. It’s me. I’m the fucking problem.”

_“You’re not.”_ And Jason heard the wind pick up, loud, like Bruce must have jumped from the building.

“It doesn’t even make sense for me to be here,” he whispered, throat painfully tight, every angry, anxiety driven thought pushing up through him until he could no longer hold them back.

_“Why would you say that?”_ His voice was strained, like he was rushing.

“Because what’s the point?” Jason’s eyes drew to the back of the cave, where tunnels sprang off in different directions and he could see little black blurs, bats, moving around and flapping their wings, faint little titters just reaching his ears. “You’re not going to find a solution. No amount of blood tests is gonna show why I’m screwed in the head!”

Apples whined, licking at his chin and he hushed his voice, whispering at her, “I’m sorry, I’m ok, it’s ok, shhh.”

_“Apples is with you?”_

Jason swallowed, swiping a hand under one eye. “Yeah.”

_“Good. Where are you right now?”_

“The cave.”

_“Alright. I just made it back to the Batmobile, I’m only maybe ten minutes out.”_ Jason registered the sudden absence of background noise.

“You don’t need to come back,” his voice was a wreck and he cringed at how pathetic he sounded, gritting his teeth and closing his eyes.

_“Tough luck. I am. Listen, I want you to go make yourself a cup of tea, or hot chocolate, and wait for me in my study, where it’s warm. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”_

“B…”

_“Please Jay,”_ he said very quietly, _“I don’t want you sitting down there in the cold with this going around in your head. I’ll be there fast.”_

Jason swiped a hand across his mouth, his stomach rolling itself in knots. He wished he was strong enough to argue; but it just felt like relief. “Ok.”

_“I can stay on with you until-”_

“No, it’s ok. I’m ok.” He ran a hand down his face and let Apples nose at his wrist.

_“...if you’re sure.”_

“Yeah,” Jason breathed.

_“Then I’ll meet you there in a few minutes.”_

Jason nodded to himself. _“Thanks,_ ” he said, very quietly.

_“Anytime Jay. Now go upstairs.”_

“Ok, ok. Bye.” He took the comm out and set it on the desk. Took a moment for one deep breath and then set Apples on the ground and climbed to his feet after her.

She went ahead of him up the stairs this time, pausing after every few steps to look back and make sure he was coming.

*

  
  


Jason made tea. He followed steps he’d seen Alfred take a thousand times before while Apples laid down on the tile floors at his feet. The structure of it helped. Just going through the motions. He was exhausted, a little sick to his stomach and when it was finished and sat steeping on the counter, he stared at all the stuff still out and managed to put away the milk and the tea canister before he gave up.

He patted at the side of his leg to get Apples attention and she rolled to her feet to follow him up to the study.

The room hadn’t changed in some 30 years judging by the old photo of Bruce as a kid in the bookshelf, and the couch was the same soft leather Jason knew from when he’d first come to live there. He sunk into it, lifting Apples to sit next to him and he sipped at the tea and tried to just….settle. To just stop thinking about all of it. He was so _tired._

Apples curled up between him and the armrest. He didn’t pay attention to how long it took but by the time the door swung quietly open his cup was dry and he was blinking into the empty fireplace across the room.

Bruce was wearing sweats, and his hair was damp and sticking up, his skin was red. Jason could still see the little indented lines from the cowl across his cheeks.

“Sorry,” he said, when he stepped into the room, “got pepper sprayed earlier in the night, I didn’t want to risk getting it on anything. Went as quickly as I could.”

“It’s fine,” Jason said, setting his already empty mug on the coffee table in front of the couch.

Bruce scrubbed a hand through his hair again and slowly rounded the table to the other side of the couch. He sat down next to him, with his forearms resting on his knees and he took a deep breath. Jason’s foot was bouncing against the floor and he wished he’d thought to grab that fidget thing.

“I’m sorry I pulled you off patrol,” he whispered. Bruce looked over at him, frowning, and shook his head before he leaned back on the couch and turned his whole body to face him.

“Jay. I need you to listen to me right now.”

Jason swallowed, throat tight, and he felt Apples squirm out of her spot and lay half her body across his lap. He rested a hand on her back and he said, “Ok.”

Bruce nodded. “This is not all in your head. You are not screwed up. You’ve…” his eyes darted across the room and his lips went very thin before he continued, voice hushed, “You’ve been through so much Jaylad.”

Jason blinked back tears, looking down at Apples and focusing on the feeling of the pup’s fur under his hand and tried to ignore the sinking shame in his gut. “You already knew.”

Bruce sighed. “I didn’t. But it was...a possibility I considered.”

Jason shook his head. “I’m such an idiot.”

“You’re not.” Bruce shook his head, frown firmly in place.

“I am. You could tell how-” he didn’t use the term _screwed up_ but only because he knew Bruce would argue. But he didn’t have a better word and he let the sentence hang.

“It’s hard to see a situation clearly when you’re right in the middle of it,” Bruce said very quietly.

Jason snorted, scrubbing a hand across his face.

“Yeah, hard to admit when you’re the cause of all your own fucking problems.”

“Jason,” and now he sounded upset, “that’s not what this is. This isn’t your fault.”

“Then whose is it?”

He was quiet for a long moment and then he leaned back a little, tucking one leg up under him so he could better face Jason on the couch.

“There is likely a very long, complicated answer to that question...I know I would be on the list.” his voice was soft, a little hesitant, and Jason didn’t speak for a moment.

“But I’m the reason that it’s happening _now.”_

Bruce let out a quiet sigh, something almost sad about it. “The reason that it’s happening _now_ is because you were put in a Lazarus Pit three years ago. The Pit’s effects are real Jason, they are _documented,_ if minimally. The reason they’re bothering you more now than they did before is not because you did something wrong, or failed in some way.” He hesitated again, and when he next spoke his voice was quietly pained. “Being afraid is not your fault. I...I’m sorry that you...that you’ve felt that way.”

There was guilt lacing every word, and it might normally be grating, but it would have just been reflex to get mad at that point, and he didn’t have the energy. He concentrated on petting Apples. “This is why you wanted me doing meditation and grounding techniques,” he glanced down, “the dog.”

“Partly, yes...have they helped?”

“...some of ‘em. I guess.”

Bruce nodded very slowly. It was still mostly dark in the room. Just a lamp on the desk illuminating the whole place, casting them both in long shadows.

“I don’t want to be the screw up forever, you know? I just hate-” his voice choked off, and he squeezed his eyes shut, taking a deep-shaky breath.

_“Jay,”_ Bruce sounded grieved, voice low and strained, “you are not a _screw up._ You are struggling right now. Those are not the same thing.”

Jason opened his eyes, only not jumping up from the couch because of the puppy in his lap. “Bruce I almost - did you ever talk to Leslie? Did she tell you what happened?”

Bruce stared at him, eyes serious. He shook his head slowly. “No. But-”

“I choked a guy until he went _unconscious_ Bruce. I totally lost it. I could have killed him if I hadn’t gotten him to Leslie on time and I still don’t- I’ve been too nervous to check back in and see what happened.”

Bruce was very quiet, and Jason wondered if it was enough to push him away. To make him see that the disaster in front of him wasn’t likely to repair itself anytime soon.

“You know, once…” Bruce looked away, staring into the middle distance and looking torn. He took a deep breath, and when he continued his voice was rough. “The day I found you, in that warehouse...I came back with burns on my hands.”

Jason went stock still, barely breathing. Bruce didn’t - they didn’t talk about this. They’d never-

“There was a particular brand of burn cream that Alfred used to stock the cave with. We didn’t need it very often, so it kept for a long time. It had a very distinct smell.”

There was a long pause and Jason’s stomach twisted up and around itself, in his throat and sinking to his feet all in one painful motion.

“...There was a time once, when Tim was Robin. Maybe near the end of his first year, I think. There was a meta with fire powers, he got a few burns on his arms through the suit. We came back to the cave...I got the cream out for him…”

Bruce was still staring at nothing, like there was something he was watching that Jason couldn’t see. He almost looked angry. “The next thing I remembered it was my hands that were burned. And the only thing I could think about was that...that you were _gone_ and I…” He took a deep breath, “I reacted poorly. I didn’t even...I couldn’t remember that Tim was even there.”

There was another silence, heavy and painfully stifling. Jason wished he could say something but his mouth felt bone dry.

“When I came out of it...I was alone in the cave and the entire medical wing was destroyed. Computers broken beyond repair, the beds upended, glass all over the floor. I had cuts in my hands and feet.

“I didn’t know where Tim was. I was barely aware of what I had done...I went upstairs, to make sure he was alright.”

The silence drew on so long Jason began to feel nervous, like this was going to turn into a different sort of confession. “Was he?” He finally asked in the hush of the room.

“Yes. But only because he had run to get Alfred as soon as I - as I lost control. I’d never seen him look so anxious before…”

Apples squirmed in his lap and Jason blinked, glancing down as she scooted herself further on top of him and rolled half over on her back. He ran a hand over the soft white fuzz on her chest and listened to Bruce’s steady breathing next to him.

“I’m sure it terrified Tim. But he never said anything to me about it. I replaced the broken equipment, we pretended it never happened.”

Jason didn’t speak, just closed his eyes and listened.

“The point is, you aren’t the only one who’s ever lost control Jason. And the added stress of your situation can only be making things harder.” Jason felt a thumb brush over the very edge of his collar bone at his shoulder, where Bruce’s arm rested against the back of the couch.

“Clark tried to convince me, around that time, to go to counseling.”

Jason opened his eyes and swallowed.

“It upset me, quite a bit at the time, actually.”

He shifted again, rubbing a hand across his chin and turning his gaze back to Jason. “It wasn’t the last time something like that happened either. Most recently, at the docks, I think you’ll remember...the explosion.”*

Jason did remember, but not very clearly. He remembered the blast, and throwing Damian clear as quickly as he could. And then he remembered ringing in his ears and suddenly Bruce being there, and Damian was fighting out of his arms and Jason could barely stand up. His legs felt like jello, his heart was hammering so hard he could barely hear what Bruce was saying in that stupid Batman gravel.

He’d felt the Pit that night too, strong as ever.

He hadn’t thought about Bruce.

“What happened?” He asked, voice hushed.

Bruce took a deep breath, eyes drifting down to Apples, still laid out belly up on his lap. “...I...struggled not to lose myself, in front of everyone. I shut down on Damian, I banned him from patrol because my anxiety spiked so hard and he swore at me and ran to his room. Dick told me later he was in tears over it.”

His voice was hollow and pained and Jason wondered how often his assholish behavior was because of shit like this. It shouldn’t make a difference.

But it sort of did.

“It took me a long time Jason, to understand how much I needed help, and to take steps to get it.” His voice had dropped even further, to just above a whisper, and very slowly and deliberately he reached out and ran a hand over Apples’ head, stroking her ear.

“Don’t say that there’s no reason for you to be here.” His voice was louder now, firmer than before. “Because this is it. Maybe no one can pinpoint a virus to eradicate or call the right magic user. But we can support you, until you feel strong enough to be on your own.”

He looked up, making clear-intense eye contact. “We’ve all struggled, Jaylad. And we all will again in the future. It’s your turn to need help. That’s all this is.”

Jason felt it coming this time, a heat that slowly spread from his eyes down into his chest until something wet streaked down his chin and he choked a tiny-quiet sob.

The whole room blurred as everything inside of him trembled like the flame of a burning candle.

He reached up to scrub the tears away, trying to quiet his hitched breathing, at the same time he heard fabric slide over the couch cushions and Bruce’s arm slipped around his shoulders, tugging his upper half forward until he was leaned into his chest.

“You will not feel like this forever,” he whispered into the crown of his head.

And wasn’t that - _he couldn’t -_ because god it _felt like it. It felt like it would always be like this._

The next sob came louder, and then the next, wrenching through his chest like something tearing itself loose; everything inside of him rushing up and out and _away_ until he shoved a fist over his mouth like he could somehow keep it all from escaping.

Apples scrambled to roll back over and started whining, cone caught on his elbow until she jerked her head back and nearly fell off the couch.

Bruce caught her with his open hand, lightning fast, and scooped her back up into his lap while Jason sobbed around a laugh, wrapping both arms around her and letting her wiggle up close until her front half was pressed flat against his chest and she stared up at him with sad eyes and wagged her tail.

“I feel like shit,” Jason choked out, half laugh half sob.

Bruce made a small, pained sound and ran his hand up and down his arm, then he leaned over, away from the couch and snagged a box of tissues sitting forgotten on the coffee table.

Jason took one, blowing his nose loudly and pressing a second into his eyes before he finally sagged into Bruce, letting his head fall forward and rest there, against his chest.

“I know this feels awful,” Bruce said, resting his cheek on top of Jason’s head. “But it’s not bad news Jay. Magic and curses are not something I’m prepared to handle. But this, we can deal with.”

Jason hitched another shaky breath. His chest _ached_ and his throat felt raw and he couldn’t stop the little hiccuping sobs that just kept coming. He didn’t even know _why_ he was crying he just couldn’t _stop_.

Bruce held him tighter, other arm coming up and smoothing his hair away from his face, gripping gently at the back of his neck; holding him in place.

They sat that way for a while, until Jason could see past the edge of the couch, while he stroked a hand down Apples’ back, gentle and careful over patchy fur and still healing scabs. He felt hollowed out; like someone scraped out his insides with a spoon.

He sniffed, loud and gross sounding in the quiet of the room and when he spoke his voice was thick and nasally, but his tears had slowed to almost nothing. “Dick told me Stephanie convinced you...to see somebody.”

Bruce hummed and he could feel it vibrate through his head and shoulders. “Yes, she did.” He brushed a thumb over Jason’s ear and smoothed his hand over his shoulder and down his arm, letting it rest cupped gently around his elbow.

“What did she say?” The tears had nearly stopped, but now his face felt dry and itchy and his nose was all stuffed up.

Jason felt small, sitting half curled up on the couch, head tucked into Bruce’s chest with a puppy in his lap. He could feel the rise and fall of his breathing. It was strange, like something from years ago. Jason hadn’t been small in such a long time. Hadn’t let himself be this way.

“...she reminded me how much was at stake...and that I was acting like it was impossible when I’d done impossible things many times before.”

“She screamed in your face, didn’t she?”

Bruce chuckled and Apples wagged her tail, brown eyes darting to Bruce and back.

“There was some yelling, yes...I didn’t listen to her right away, either. But I couldn’t stop thinking about what she said, and how much I wanted the things I could have if she was right.

Jason snorted, “Jeez, she’s got a way with words, I guess.”

“She makes an impression, certainly.”

“And it works,” Jason asked, barely a whisper. “The stuff you're learning, it’s helping?”

“...Yes.” his lungs filled slowly under Jason’s ear. “it’s not perfect, and it’s difficult. Just as difficult as I imagined it would be. But it’s worth it. And it’s helping.” Jason nodded slowly, trying to take it all in as he nodded, forehead dragging against Bruce’s soft-cotton shirt. He cleared his throat.

“Babs uh...she suggested I...see somebody too,” It felt beyond him then. Beyond him _now_ but he didn’t know what else to do. He was desperate to stop feeling like this, and what else was there?

“And what do you think?” He asked, carefully letting go of his arm and reaching up to adjust Apples cone, straightening it where it had folded oddly at her neck.

“I don’t know. I’ve seen shrinks before,” he admitted very quietly.

Bruce held very still, his breaths coming in slow and shallow. Jason shifted, pulling back just enough that Bruce lifted his head, letting him lean back against the couch, feeling boneless.

“It was required, you know, at Arkham...they didn’t give a shit.” Jason looked at Bruce out of the corner of his eye to find him frowning harshly at the floor. The arm around his shoulders squeezed tight for a moment and released.

“It’s not supposed to be like that.”

Jason snorted and Bruce’s eyes shifted from the floor to his face, the blue of his irises bright in the dark of the room. “If you felt like whoever you met with didn’t care, then we would find someone else.”

He swallowed at the suggestion, feeling nauseous. The way he said it made it sound real, like something in motion.

“They’d just think I was crazy.”

“Jason, they wouldn’t.” He let out a soft breath, “There are- my therapist doesn’t think I’m crazy. And I’ve told her the truth, about me, about all of you.” Bruce moved the arm still tucked around his shoulders, reaching up, he tugged on Jason’s ear. “And you’re not crazy.”

“I just...I don’t know.” He shook his head, sliding against the soft leather of the couch cushion. The idea of talking to someone about all this. To some stranger...Thinking about what it felt like to die, to watch a timer tick down on his last seconds. To claw out of his own grave. What it felt like to be lost in a stupor for some undefined amount of time, to come back in an uncontrolled rage that he still didn’t really _understand -_ he felt sweat break out on the back of his neck. His mouth watered like he might throw up and he sucked in a shuddering breath.

“You could come with me.”

“Hm?” Jason turned his head, making Bruce lean back when their faces were a little too close.

“You could come to one of my appointments with me. Just to get a feel for it. You’d like my therapist; she barely puts up with me.”

Jason let out a jerky laugh, feeling mildly hysterical. “She sounds great.”

Bruce nodded slowly, eyebrows low, eyes searching his face. “How does that sound?”

Jason pictured it, walking in somewhere with Bruce, probably in disguise, ‘cause it’s him; sitting in an office decorated with fake plants and probably ugly-abstract art on the walls and beige carpet. A woman with a fake-plastic smile.

Except that’s what Arkham used to be like. And Jason didn’t think Bruce would put up with it. He wouldn’t sit there and talk about his trauma to some empty headed idiot. She’d be smart, and quick, and probably insightful.

The office would probably still be ugly.

“If I don’t have to talk,” he finally answered, looking down and finding Apples’ eyes slipped closed, fast asleep against his chest.

“You don't have to, if you don’t want to.”

Jason breathed for a moment, taking in the quiet of the room, the comfort of the sofa and that talking about this right now didn’t make him feel like he was tearing his own heart out. “Ok,” he said, “then I guess...I guess it couldn’t hurt.”

Bruce was quiet, so all Jason could hear was his own congested breathing before the hand around his shoulders slipped up to his head, holding him in place as he stretched forward, pressing his lips to his temple, brief and firm.

When he pulled back Jason was blinking stinging eyes again and then they just sat there, for a while, not saying or doing anything, just leaning against each other.

It was truly late now, the kind of pitch dark outside that the moon could never quite cut through and Jason’s eyelids were drooping until Bruce nudged him gently.

“We both need to get some sleep.” And he did sound exhausted, almost as tired as Jason felt.

With monumental effort, he leaned forward, untrapping Bruce’s arm from around his shoulders. He tried not to wake Apples but was unsuccessful and she again refused to be carried, so he set her on the floor and let her patter after him down the hall while Bruce followed. When he turned toward his room though, a hand brushed his elbow and Jason glanced back.

“Come on,” he tilted his head down the hall, toward his room, “I’ll sleep better this way.”

Jason didn’t even think or react, he just shuffled his way down, picked Apples up off the floor just long enough to set her on the bed and crawled in after her.

Bruce shut the door behind him and rounded the bed slowly, drawing the curtains closed tight against a sun that would soon be rising, and then clicked off the lamp on his nightstand. Apples squirmed around while Bruce slipped into the bed, spinning in circles until she found the perfect spot, curled up at his side, head resting on his hip.

Jason was already drifting, the softness of the sheets and the velvet fur under his hand pulling him down faster than he expected.

A soft stirring next to him made him blink his eyes open, into the dark. He flinched, just slightly, when he sensed something too close before a hand landed lightly on his forehead, drawing back through his hair just once.

“I love you,” Bruce said, whisper soft, before he withdrew his hand and Jason could hear him settling next to him.

He swallowed, throat tight and stopped up and he sucked in a deep breath.

“I love you too.”

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: fairly violent nightmare, though it isn't described in so much detail. 
> 
> ________
> 
> 10/27/20 - FIRST OFF PLEASE LOOK AT THAT AMAZING GIF!!! By the WONDERFUL [Kuna-Mart](https://kuna-mart.tumblr.com/) I can't get over the beauty of this honestly.
> 
> Here you go. Finally. Some _solid conversation_ look at our boys, talking about their feelings. I'm so proud T.T
> 
> aaaaah I don't know what to say really. This chapter is one of the longest, clocking in at over 11k words dfghj but I couldn't possibly cut it off early so I had to leave it that way.
> 
> I'm letting you all know!! The next chapter is the last one. I can't believe this baby is finally coming to a close, but I'm so excited to get there. I'm sure I will post some connected one shots and maybe an epilogue later, depending. But we are almost there friends<3 
> 
> Also, if someone felt inclined to draw the scene with Jason and Bruce on the couch in the study with Apples I would give you my first born T.T
> 
> Chapter title from Breathe Me by Sia
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](https://batbirdies.tumblr.com).


	32. Yeah, I believe it's the way to find peace again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything is weird, but it's not _bad_. Things might just be looking up, a little bit, maybe...if he lets himself think it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings this chapter!!
> 
> I'm so sorry my friends. I am SUCH A DAMN LIAR. This is not the last chapter sdfghjk. 
> 
> Anyway please enjoy!!!

“Jason….”

.

.

.

_“Jason.”_

.

.

There was a heavy sigh, and something nudged him in the shoulder.

“Mnph?” Jason blinked his eyes open, squinting into the dim room. It was impossible to tell what time it was but there was bright light leaking in around the curtains.

“Your dog.”

It was Bruce’s rough voice, deep from sleep and Jason did his best to rouse himself. He sucked in a breath, rubbing at his face and finally propping up on his elbows. “Apples?”

Now that he paid attention, he could hear her; soft little whines that cut off when he said her name and she suddenly rushed him, the perfect height to nearly knock heads as her whole body wiggled and she swiped her tongue right over his mouth.

“App- _pff,”_ he sputtered, pushing her back and trying to orient himself in the room, and the day, as memories were slowly slotting into place. 

“She needs to go out,” Bruce mumbled into his pillow, still laid flat, face hidden from view with his arm stretched out toward Jason.

“Shit, sorry.” The apology was more for Apples than Bruce, and he quickly maneuvered himself out of the bed, stumbling a little on legs that weren’t quite awake yet. He grabbed Apples and set her on the floor, but instead of winding all the way down to the back door through the laundry room where all their junk was set up, he shuffled her over to the balcony door and moved the curtains just enough for both of them to slip outside.

The sky was bright, blindingly so in comparison to the dark of the room and for a moment he just stood there squinting with his arms wrapped tight around his stomach, teeth chattering and feet frozen in a thin layer of snow.

Apples really had to go apparently, because she took a few steps toward a potted plant that sat empty near the railing and immediately squated next to it.

There was the brief sound of movement behind him and Jason glanced back to find Bruce standing there, curtain pulled around him and leaning through the open door with his hair sticking up and blanket lines across his face, complete with a deep frown and squinting eyes.

“No time to get her to the yard,” Jason said over the sound of dog pee and melted snow dripping through the wooden planks to the ground beneath them.

Bruce closed his eyes, letting out a deep sigh before he shook his head and ducked back inside without a word.

Jason snorted, at both Bruce and Apples when she didn’t even wait for him to go back in, just hopped through the open door and tried to force her way through the curtains until Jason had to step in and untangle her cone from the heavy fabric. 

He jumped when a towel hit him, wrapping around the back of his head. “At least dry off her feet,” Bruce said around a toothbrush, as Jason dragged the towel off his shoulders. 

He stood in the doorway to the attached bathroom looking grumpy and sleep rumpled and Jason grunted as he knelt down and called Apples back to him. 

“Somebody’s grouchy huh?” He faux whispered to the dog, who wagged her tail in response. A second look and Bruce was giving him a soft glare as he removed the toothbrush from his mouth.

“You’re hosing off the balcony later.”

“Oof, didn’t you hear? I’m injured. I can’t be held responsible for that.” He raised his right arm, showing off a now rather spectacular bruise around his wrist and up his forearm. 

Bruce’s eyes narrowed to something more serious though and Jason dropped his arm, a vaguely uncomfortable flutter in his stomach. It wasn’t funny if Bruce took it seriously, and now that he paid attention, it did kind of hurt; sore like a bruised rib after a bad fall.

“Jay-”

Jason shook his head, focusing intently on getting every drop of water off puppy paws before Bruce let out a soft sigh and finished brushing his teeth. It wasn’t like it was a secret now, but it still wasn’t something he wanted to go into detail about. Bruce would get mad at Constantine and who knew what kind of disaster that would spell and maybe he wanted to just enjoy a nice morning for once. 

He could hear him fiddling with a few things in the bathroom, opening and closing drawers, turning the faucet on and back off again, before he stepped back into the room. His hair was combed and a little damp; no more bed head, but he still had blanket marks on his face.

He knelt down next to Jason, taking the towel from his hands and resting a palm flat on his back, swiping up and down just once, looking at Apples instead of him. 

“I hope you’ll tell me what happened, eventually. But if you’d rather not, that’s ok.” 

Jason looked over, at his very serious face when he let Apples grab the towel in her teeth and tug back on it, and he swallowed against the ever present lump in his throat, nodding his head just enough to register.

“Now come on, let’s get something to eat.”

He patted his shoulder and stood up in one smooth motion, heading toward the door, and Jason followed.

When they entered the dining room it was empty but for Tim, sitting at one side with his laptop open in front of him, a cup of coffee and a muffin on a plate to his left.

“Tim,” Bruce greeted, clearing his throat just after, “what are you doing here so early?”

Tim glanced up, raising an eyebrow. “It’s one in the afternoon.”

Jason blinked, dragging a hand through his hair as Alfred stepped out of the kitchen only to raise a matching eyebrow.

“...Perhaps I should bring you some coffee?” He asked as Bruce took a seat at the head of the table and Jason came around to stand near the doorway to the kitchen.

“That would be perfect Alfred, thank you.”

Tim eyed them both critically for a moment before slumping back in his char. “I was going to ask you about a work thing but I think it can wait until later.”

Bruce opened his mouth and then stopped. Jason almost swore he could see the gears turning behind his eyes. “ _It’s fine, I can talk,”_ quickly transitioning to, _“wait, then maybe Tim will take the afternoon off.”_

“That sounds good. I’m sure we can discuss it tomorrow.”

Tim wrinkled his nose, like that was a little later than he’d hoped but he didn’t argue.

“Where’s Cass?” He asked when Alfred brought out two steaming cups of coffee.

Jason took his with cold and grateful hands. “Thanks Alf, you’re a saint.” Alfred gave a short nod, a little quirk of his mouth, and patted Jason’s shoulder.

“Why don’t you sit down, my boy?”

Jason gestured to Apples, sticking close, but not so anxious as even the day before. “Need to get her fed.”

“Ah,” he nodded before he went to serve Bruce his coffee as well and Jason slipped into the kitchen to fill Apples’ dish. He watched her for a few seconds, deciding she’d be ok on her own with him just in the next room. 

“...I think they’re planning something,” he just heard the last half of Tim’s answer to Bruce as he re-entered the room, one eyebrow raised as he sipped his coffee.

Bruce looked apprehensive when he said, “Planning something?”

Tim put up his hands in innocence. “I didn’t ask. After Stephanie demanded we make puppy cake I decided to stay out of it.”

Jason snorted, glancing at said puppy, where he could just see her from his seat across the table from Tim. Titus was around somewhere surely, but he was hoping Apples was getting a little more comfortable there and he didn’t worry too much about it. 

“Well, it was well received at least,” Jason said, setting his mug down and folding his arms over the table.

When he glance dup, Tim was staring at him, a little pinch between his eyebrows that quickly smoothed when his gaze darted back to the muffin he was slowly picking apart.

“That’s good, I’m glad she liked it more than I did.”

Alfred hummed something amused sounding as he swept his empty coffee mug up from the table.

“More than _you_ did?” Jason asked, glancing at Bruce to find him stifling a smile.

Tim gave a weighted sigh, staring at the muffin like it had personally wronged him. “She didn’t tell me what it was, they’d already made the _‘frosting’_ when I got here yesterday.”

“She did tell you you couldn’t have any,” Bruce interjected, earning him a betrayed glare.

“It was frosting. I wasn’t going to not try it.”

Jason snorted, swiping a hand down his face and feeling oddly light. “That bad?”

Tim shrugged, popping a chunk of muffing in his mouth. “Not really, just tasted like sour mashed potatoes but it was not what I was expecting.”

“Sour?” Jason made a face as Alfred came back into the room, sporting two plates of food that he set down for him and Bruce. 

Tim sighed again. “Yeah, I guess it had yogurt in it. Weird combination.”

And for the life of him, Jason couldn’t help it. He started laughing, and then - he couldn’t stop.

He felt a slightly uncontrolled edge hitching underneath it, like hysteria was lurking just below the surface, like he might start crying just as easily as laughing. But it was just so ridiculous. In the wake of everything else happening around him and in his life, for some reason, the thought of Tim eating weird yogurt potatoes meant to be frosting for a dog cake had Jason nearly on the floor laughing.

It seemed to become apparent to more than just him though, that he might just be losing it. Tim was staring at him with a vaguely concerned expression which only made it worse, and Bruce frowned.

“...Jay.”

“I’m good!” He managed to gasp out, clamping a hand over his mouth and leaning over his plate. He swallowed, doing his damndest to reign in whatever it was that was trying to burst out of his chest. Tears burned the corners of his eyes and he knew he was about ten seconds away from utterly embarrassing himself before Apples came trotting back into the room.

Tim brightened, leaning to the side so he could duck his head under the table and call her over, giving Jason a chance to swallow the phantom hysteria trying to claw its way up his throat. 

Bruce was still watching him when he managed to get his breathing under control and Alfred set a glass of water down next to his plate without a word, which Jason took with a nod of thanks, drinking deeply while he felt his face heat from the attention. 

“Everything alright?” Bruce asked, just quiet enough Tim wouldn’t catch it from under the table.

“Yeah,” Jason breathed, setting the glass down and blinking back the wetness in his eyes. “I’m fine.”

And he was. He felt fine. Just...weird. Like everything he’d been pressing down on for so long now was suddenly floating loose, shaken up and quivering, ready to make for escape at any opportunity. 

He managed, at least, to recover himself enough to eat lunch. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until he was eating and ended up with seconds and part of thirds before Bruce put a hand on his arm and said, “Don't make yourself sick, Jay.”

It also turned out, the other half of the reason Tim had come over was to see Apples when Damian wasn’t there to interrupt. So Bruce waved them off to the den when they were done and Jason laid himself flat on the couch, feeling stuffed like a Christmas turkey and incredibly drowsy.

Tim sat himself on the floor with the puppy while Jason watched, head propped up on a throw pillow and the blanket from the back of the couch draped over his legs.

Apples was still afraid of Titus, but he had a little corner of things in the room, a large dog bed and a few toys. And she went sniffing around them like crazy for a solid five minutes while Tim sat there with his arms crossed; pouting until she finally lost interest and he could tempt her into a game of tug-o-war. 

“What is that?” Jason asked after a moment, squinting at the toy she was pulling on.

“An old pair of my socks,” Tim answered easily, like that wasn’t absolutely absurd.

“Are you kidding me?”

Tim glanced up, unphased.

“You actually brought a pair of socks over here for her to play with? You know we have toys for her.”

The younger boy shrugged, attention diverting back to the dog. “I didn’t have any at my place, so this is what we did. She liked them.”

Jason huffed, settling back into the pillow and feeling oddly soft in the chest as he watched them both, the way Apples seemed totally at ease. “You do know she’s my dog right? Like you can have uncle rights and all that but like, she’s my dog.”

Tim scoffed, “Forgive me for being nice to your dog.”

“It’s fine,” Jason said, raising his hands in mock surrender, “I just don’t want you thinking you can steal her away from me or something. You don’t act like this with the other pets.”

At this, Tim rolled his eyes. “The other pets are Damian’s.”

“And what,” Jason asked, pulling his phone out of his pocket to check the time, “you think he’ll jump you if you’re nice to them?”

He made an inarticulate noise in response, reaching out to scratch behind Apples’ cone when he pulled her close with the socks. “I think he’d suspect me of something. Like getting them to trust me so I can use them against him.”

Jason looked at Tim, from the corner of his eye, phone still held in front of his face. “I think you’d be surprised...could be a nice middle ground.”

Tim’s mouth twisted to the side in obvious disbelief but he shrugged again after a while. 

“Maybe,” was his only reply.

It was quiet for a while after that; Jason alternated between playing solitaire on his phone and watching Tim play with Apples until she was spinning in tight circles trying to get at the socks, right until she lost her balance and fell over sideways.

“Don’t break her,” Jason warned, though there was no heat in his voice. Tim was smiling when he set them down and ruffled her ears while she got clumsily back to her feet.

“So,” Tim said after another moment of silence.

“Hm?” Jason asked, not looking up from his phone.

“How are things going with the...uh, with the Pit?” He asked, eyes darting to the side and smile falling away. “I mean not that it’s any of my business. But I heard things with Constantine didn’t go super well. Or at least, he didn’t find anything.”

Jason swallowed, the soft ease of the moment slipping away in an instant, eyes glued to his phone but not really seeing the screen. He didn’t know how much he wanted to say, and part of him was anxious at even being asked and before he could think he bit out something defensive. “Kind of a stupid question. How do you _think_ they’re going?”

“I…” Tim hesitated, eyes on Apples, not looking up, “I don’t know. You seemed upset last night but this morning...I don’t know. You don’t have to tell me anything.” His voice dropped to a mumble, back hunching slightly over his folded legs and Jason internally cringed before he shook his head at the ceiling and let his arm flop over the edge of the couch with a sigh.

“...Sorry...You’re allowed to ask. It was just…”

Tim glanced up cautiously, while Apples pulled at his sweatshirt sleeve with her teeth.

Jason worried his lip between his teeth for a moment before he blew out a breath and started talking. “Constantine didn’t find anything because there wasn’t anything to find. Turns out it’s…” he trailed off, having no clue how to word it. He didn’t want to say it was all in his head. Even if it still kind of felt that way.

“It’s what…” Tim asked when Jason didn’t continue, voice quiet.

“The Pit’s not worse because of some curse, it’s...worse because of me.” 

Tim was quiet for a long time before he cleared his throat. “What does that mean, exactly?”

“Like,” Jason struggled, dropping his phone on the coffee table and gesturing toward the ceiling, a single sharp twist in his stomach. “The way Constantine put it, it’s like...The Pit is driven to protect me. So when I...get upset, it flares up in response. Or that’s….the best way I can describe it.” He dropped his arms to his chest and finally turned his head to look over. He watched Tim’s face, the way he frowned and his eyebrows drew together.

“So it’s like...anxiety induced.”

Jason swallowed, nausea rolling through his system. He didn’t talk about his _anxiety_ with _Tim._

“I mean it makes sense,” Tim continued, turning his attention back to the dog but never losing the look of concentration. “If the Lazarus Pit initially causes delusions and amplifies emotions, especially aggression, but fades over time into something you only feel in intense situations...maybe when your adrenaline is peaked,” he leaned his head to the side, “then it would stand to reason that if you were starting to have problems with strong emotions, maybe because of PTSD or-”

“Tim _Christ,”_ Jason burst out, feeling strangled and suddenly too warm.

Tim cut off, looking up with wide eyes.

“Can you not? I don’t need you psychoanalyzing me, ok?” He managed to keep himself from yelling, even with the spike in his heart and the quiet buzzing of the Pit like a mosquito in his ear. He pushed himself up into a seated position though, suddenly too antsy to lay down.

“Sorry,” Tim said, sounding genuine enough, “I didn’t mean to- I just meant, I guess...it makes sense that the Lazarus Pit might work that way.” He shrugged, looking uncomfortable now that he was actually talking _to_ Jason instead of just about him.

“Yeah...I guess.” Jason rubbed at the knuckles on his right hand.

“It’s good you figured that out though.” Tim looked back down at Apples, who had flopped onto her back, feet kicking in the air. He grabbed her front paws and rolled her side to side while she tried to playfully bite at his hands around the cone. He looked serious despite the action, face a blank mask like he was thinking deeply about something.

Jason waited, watching him out of the corner of his eye while he pretended to go back to his phone, wary of what was going through his head. 

“Listen,” Tim finally said, voice gone low and solemn as he let go of the dog, “I’m gonna tell you something, and it can’t leave this room.”

They both looked up, making direct eye contact, Tim’s hands falling still and folding down into his lap. 

Jason nodded, a little nervous.

Tim shifted, loosening his shoulders out, and then the serious face turned down to his hands and he picked at his jeans. “There’s been times for me,” he began, “when the thought of...uh...dying...was sort of...a neutral idea. Like I wasn’t suicidal but...I didn’t feel super motivated to live, either.”

Jason sat very still, swallowing against a dry throat while he watched color creep up Tim’s neck and into his face the more he talked. Jason could do nothing but stare, feeling frozen to his seat and suddenly-helplessly sad, wondering how so many of them could end up so torn up inside.

“The reason I’m telling you, is because...you know,” he reached out when Apples rolled back to her front, stroking at her ears. “When Bruce was gone, I was so furious and hurt about all this stuff that I wouldn’t...I didn’t tell anyone, and I made dangerous decisions and gave bullshit excuses for them. 

“So like...I know it’s not the same, but don’t feel like you’re just - especially screwed up, or that any of us will judge you for…” he looked back at him, expression a little helpless, “...having issues.”

Jason didn’t say anything at first, barely managing a nod; feeling seen-through in a particularly painful way. Part of him still wanted to deny everything Tim was saying. But it was getting smaller the longer he sat there, and the exhaustion in his bones just didn’t see the point.

There was a steady ache in his chest that didn’t want to fade but it was a good sort of hurt, like stretching out sore muscles. There was a whole swirl of other things too. A sharp guilt that Jason knew he’d probably contributed to that, way back when, and been in no position at the time to help, even if he hadn’t been part of the problem. It was a tender sort of twisted empathy that took him by surprise because - when did he care so much?

But how could he not, after all of this shit?

“Thanks,” Jason finally managed, clearing his throat. Tim shifted in discomfort from the floor, uncurling one leg and shifting his weight to the other side. 

They couldn’t even look at each other and Jason found it a little absurd in a humorous sort of way. They were all so damn bad at this.

Except maybe Cass. She seemed to do ok.

“Hey,” Jason said abruptly, making Tim glance up with a jolt of surprise. “Here’s a deal. Either of us feels like that kind of shit again, we tell each other...or, you know. Somebody. Sure as hell doesn’t have to be me but...you get it.”

Jason shifted, scratching at the back of his neck when Tim only stared at him, his surprise blatantly apparent before he gave just the hint of a smile.

“I’ve already got a deal in place, actually.”

Jason blinked. “Oh? With who? Not that it’s-”

“Dick. I think he’d be ok letting you in on it though.”

Jason groaned, dropping back onto the couch and rolling his eyes to the ceiling. “Not _Dick.”_

Tim made a noise distinctly like a _snicker_ and Jason sighed. “Fine. Deal.”

When he looked back down at them, Tim and Apples, the kid was smiling. Like honest-to-god teeth showing while he went back to dragging his socks across the floor for her to chase after. 

Before Jason could talk himself out of it he slipped off the couch, grabbed one of Titus’s toys, and joined them on the floor. 

*

  


It wasn’t too long before Damian got home from school. Jason wasn’t exactly surprised but he was still laughing to himself at how jealous the kid was of Tim when he joined them in the den.

He brought Titus with him, still insisting on getting Apples used to his presence, which Jason was fine with. The kid was responsible about it and Apples _did_ need to get used to him. He was sure they’d be best buds once Apples got over her nerves, but for now, Damian sat to the side with Titus, steadily stroking down his back with an utterly disgruntled look on his face that Jason had to stifle a smile at more than once. 

He did feel a little bad. He’d been in the house with her for a few days already and still hadn’t gotten to really greet her since he was always watching after Titus. 

The kid was obviously prepared though, because he pulled a baggy of dog treats out of his pocket at one point and gave one to Titus before trying to tempt Apples with another. He sat on the floor just in front of the couch, leaning his back against it with Titus laid out next to him, head propped on his crossed ankles. 

Tim had been petting her after she’d tired out from playing, but he didn’t do anything when she perked her ears at the treat, just moved his hands out of the way when she very slowly stood up from his lap. Getting the treat meant walking almost right up to Titus, but it showed how much she was getting used to them all because she only hesitated a little, still giving Titus a wide berth and making a large circle up to Damian’s other side, but not immediately running away when she took it. 

She even wagged her tail and let him pet her for a moment before she retreated to Jason, who gave them both a smug smirk.

“Have you been vigilant about her ointment?” Damian asked out of nowhere, when Tim was just flipping channels on the tv. 

Jason gave him a look, “I gave Titus his ear drops every day didn’t I? _Yes,_ I have been _vigilant_ about the ointment.” 

Damian scowled. “It was only a question. I was doing research last night and I feel she should be healing faster than she is, but it may be because of the stressful environment in a dog shelter and perhaps she will improve more rapidly now that she is here.” 

He ended with a flippant shrug, pulling his phone out and tapping out a message while he frowned. 

Jason made eye contact with Tim over the coffee table and tried not to look too overly amused.

“You were doing research, huh?” 

“Yes, what of it?” He said, waspishly. 

Jason gave him a flat look even though he didn’t look up from his phone. “Do you want to do it now?”

“....the ointment?” his eyes flashed up, fingers stilling on his phone screen.

“Would that make you feel like we’re being more _responsible?”_

He frowned. “It is not a matter of-” he cut himself off suddenly, with a minute shake of his head. “It could help. I read that if it does not appear to be as effective as advertised then applying twice a day would not hurt.” 

Jason tried not to laugh, and to ignore the striking fondness that hit him out of nowhere. 

“Then go get it,” he said, jerking his chin toward the door. “It’s on my nightstand.” 

Damian lowered his phone, glancing at the much larger dog laying next to him. “But Titus-”

“It’s fine. He’ll be good.” 

He huffed out an annoyed sounding breath but didn’t say anything else before he carefully pulled his feet out from under Titus’s head and stood up.

When Jason glanced back at Tim, he was staring after the kid where he disappeared through the doorway, a thoughtful expression on his face. 

Jason didn’t say anything. It didn’t seem like the right moment, but he was sure _everyone_ would be happier if the two of them could find some common ground.

  


*

  


As soon as Damian walked in with the ointment, Apples ears went down, pressed flat to the back of her head as she slipped into Jason’s lap like he might protect her. 

Jason sighed, rubbing up and down her sides. “You’ll survive, I promise.” 

She didn’t seem to think so, because as Damian neared she crouched lower in his lap, finally flopping over on her back in submission, tail between her legs. “Hey,” Jason half whispered, stroking at her shoulders and suddenly feeling bad. She hadn’t seemed that frightened the last time and Jason, stupidly, didn’t really understand why until Damian hesitated.

“Drake.” 

“Hm?” Tim looked up from his phone, eyebrows up.

“She is used to you, it will make her less nervous if it is not a relative stranger.” And then he held the tube out toward him.

Tim blinked at Damian and then at the tube in his hand for just long enough that Jason knew the kid was going to get mad before he gave a quick nod and unfolded from the floor.

“Sure.”

He took it naturally enough, coming to sit down next to Jason on the couch. 

Apples rolled back over, though her ears were still down, but she licked insistently at Tim’s hand when he reached up and he gave a sad sort of smile. 

“Making me be the bad guy,” he grumbled under his breath.

Damian snorted but Tim only gave him a warning look before he uncapped the tube and Jason helped hold her legs out for the application. 

When they were done, Apples pouted, ever predictable; but she only curled in a tight ball facing away from the rest of the room and Jason didn’t mind sitting with her for however long she needed. 

“Richard is coming to dinner,” Damian blurted out, a few minutes later, while Tim was midway through choosing a video game.

“Is he?” Tim asked, looking back over his shoulder.

“I believe I just said that,” Damian sniped, looking up from his phone screen just in time to dodge the light kick Jason threw at his shoulder. “It appears everyone is,” he continued after scrolling through another message. 

Jason and Tim both frowned, pulling out their respective phones and finding no announcement, nor invitation. “No one told me about a family dinner,” Tim grumbled under his breath.

Damian opened his mouth then, while Tim was looking away, no doubt to say something _stupid_ and _rude_ and Jason grabbed the closest thing to him and whipped it in Damian’s direction, hitting him squarely in the side of the head with a hollow-rubber ball. 

It bounced off with a dull, _‘tun’_ noise and Damian jerked back with an angry yell, probably only staying where he was for Titus’s sake. 

Tim looked up, startled, glancing between them. “What….was that about?”

“Damian knows what it’s about,” Jason said, leveling the kid a flat look. 

He looked murderous, but when he glared in Jason’s direction Jason glared right back.

“You are insufferable,” he spat, picking the ball up like he might throw it back but glancing at Apples with a clenched jaw and dropping it back to the ground. 

“Right,” Tim said slowly, like they were both crazy as he tucked his phone back away. “Well, if everyone’s coming over, I need to go see if I can talk to Bruce before the chaos. Try not to kill each other.” 

He left the game abandoned, controller still laying in the middle of the floor, as he stood up and straightened his clothes before leaving the room. 

Jason glared at the offending object, like it might disappear before he heaved a sigh and gently set Apples out of his lap. “I swear you’re all animals,” he groused as he got up to put it away while Damian’s narrowed eyes followed him around the room. 

He was expecting it, now that Apples could no longer protect him, but when the rubber ball nailed him in the back of the thigh it was with enough force to sting. 

_“Christ,_ Damian.” He grabbed the back of his leg with his free hand, half stumbling to the entertainment cabinet.

“I was only going to say-”

“What?” Jason turned around to look at him, eyebrows raised. “What were you going to say? Was it something like _‘Maybe because you’re not part of the family?’_ Please, enlighten me.”

The kid’s mouth was already open, but he hesitated, angry look giving way to a red face before he clapped his teeth closed and glared at the tops of his knees, still petting down Titus’s back. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Jason grumbled, rubbing at the back of his leg before finishing putting away the game controller, trying to soothe the irritated pulsing in his chest before he turned back around. 

“I thought you two were having a moment, or something,” Jason griped as he slumped back onto the couch with the puppy.

“Tt. Please,” Damian huffed, though he didn’t look over. “I do not have _moments_ with anyone, let alone Drake.” 

Jason rolled his eyes. “How _grown up_ of you.” 

Damian turned his head to glare at him this time, but when Jason only stared back his shoulders lowered just a little before the expression dissolved. 

“I do not mean to-” he stopped, letting out a sharp breath and looking vaguely irritated, though whether that was with himself or the conversation, Jason couldn’t tell. 

It wasn’t like it was Jason’s business. But after the conversation he’d just had with Tim, he wasn’t in the mood to let things play out on their own.

“It’s easy to be mean,” Jason offered, voice low, “I get it. But he’s not your enemy or your competition. So cut it out.” 

It was a little blunt, maybe. But Jason could see the tips of his ears go red hot, and knew he’d hit the mark. 

There was no doubt in his mind the kid was embarrassed and _guilty_. Jason understood that. He’d said his fair share of hurtful things in reflexive when the other person didn’t deserve it. It wasn’t an easy behavior to let go of even if it should be. 

But he wasn’t out to humiliate the kid, and Jason wasn’t anybody who could go around giving advice on being _kind._ When Damian didn’t respond, Jason turned the tv back on and turned up the volume, effectively ending the conversation. 

He watched the kid subtly as he shifted into a more comfortable position on the couch, resting fully into the cushions behind him and letting Apples crawl back into his lap. 

Damian held himself stiffly at first, like he was waiting for more. A lecture, or what, Jason wasn’t sure, but ever so slowly the redness faded from his ears and his spine relaxed into a more comfortable slouch. 

He got up after a while, but came back a few minutes later with his sketchbook and drawing things and Jason figured it was the best outcome he could expect of the situation. 

  


*

  


Dick found them that way an hour or so later. Jason laid out on the couch while Damian sat at the coffee table drawing. 

He swooped in quickly, ruffling Damian’s hair with a touch of roughness as he passed by, making him reach up to smack the hand away. He went for Jason just as quickly but immediately saw the puppy and stopped in his tracks.

“Oh my god. I know I’ve seen pictures but she’s _adorable._ ” 

Jason snorted.

“You must approach her slowly, Grayson, she is wary of strangers.” Damian piped up before Jason could say anything.

Dick only nodded though, like he’d already been aware. “No worries, I won’t surprise her. Is it ok if I sit, though?” He pointed to the couch cushion next to Jason, and Jason nodded.

“As long as you don’t jump up and down you should be good.” 

“Ha,” He stepped over Jason’s legs that were propped up on the coffee table and sat down slowly, half sideways, to better face him and the puppy. 

Apples didn’t move, but she did wag her tail a little, swiping over the top of Jason’s leg.

“Hey Apples, nice to meet you,” Dick said in a soft voice, holding a hand out. She sniffed him a little and licked twice and didn’t try to scramble out of Jason’s lap when he scratched under her chin and behind her ears. 

“She doesn’t seem so scared,” Dick said after a moment, scooting closer and running a hand down her side.

“That is because she is with Todd,” Damian said, followed by a grumble of, “and you do not have a large dog.”

Dick huffed a laugh and then nudged Jason in the shoulder. “You hear that? She feels safe with you. How does it feel to be a dad?” 

“Shut up,” Jason laughed, though he didn’t move his arm from around the puppy.

“Hey Dames,” Dick leaned out around Jason, so he could see him, “You think you can find out what Alfred’s making for dinner?”

“He is making a traditional shepherds pie, plus a smaller one with a vegetarian filling for me,” Damian answered without looking up from his sketchbook.

“Oh, sounds fantastic,” Dick said easily. “Do you think maybe you could go help him?”

Damian’s pencil paused before he looked up, eyebrows low. “Why would I do that? Pennyworth is perfectly capable of-”

 _“Dames.”_ Dick made big, meaningful eyes at him and then jerked his chin toward the door.

Damian narrowed his eyes in return before glancing at Jason and finally heaving a heavy sigh and setting his notebook on the coffee table. 

“Fine. I will leave you to have your private conversation despite _not being asked.”_

Jason choked on his own spit while the kid picked himself up off the floor.

“Come, Titus.” 

“Thank you, Damian,” Dick offered as he slipped out of the room, forcedly patient _._ He heaved a sigh when it was finally just the two of them and looked back at Jason.

“Sorry,” he half laughed, “he’s still learning subtlety.” 

“Nah,” Jason shook his head, despite mild nerves at the play for privacy, “it’s good to see someone embarrass you.”

Dick laughed, leaning back against the armrest and laying his left arm across the back of the couch, one foot folded under him. He just _looked_ at him for an extended moment, before he seemed to sag in relief. “You seem ok.”

Jason cocked an eyebrow in response, feeling caught off guard. 

“I haven’t really heard from you the last couple days. And before that it was just texts. I got concerned.”

Jason grunted, shrugging his shoulders and staring at the tv, though it was still muted from the last commercial. “Yeah I...sorry.”

“No, it’s fine, Jay.” Dick shook his head, letting Apples sniff a little more at his hand. “You don’t have to keep me informed of every little thing all the time just...forgive me if I check in occasionally.” 

“Is that why you came tonight? ‘Cause none of us heard about any family dinner.” 

He glanced over and Dick squinted, mouth twisting to the side like he’d been caught. “There was no family dinner. I may have suggested Cass invite me.”

Jason snorted when Dick tilted his head from side to side. “And Tim was already gonna be here, I heard from Bruce, and Cass was with Stephanie and she always invites her, so they asked Babs too. Just to round everything out.” 

Jason huffed a laugh through his nose. “You coulda' called me...or just _asked.”_

Dick tilted his chin down, like he was looking at him over the tops of his own invisible glasses, giving him the most heavily skeptical expression he’d ever seen. “Ahuh, I’m sure that would have gotten me really honest answers. You would _never_ pretend like everything was fine when it wasn’t.”

Jason stared back. “...kettle.”

Dick let out a strangled laugh. “Yeah, ok. See, this is why I wanted to see you with my own two eyes.” He lifted his hand off the back of the couch and nudged him in the shoulder before he subsided a little, looking more serious, though still relaxed.

“But things are going ok? With Bruce and with everybody? With the Pit?” He didn’t hesitate when he asked, but Jason still felt a hint of it in himself, a slow enough response time that Dick’s relaxed posture shifted to something a little more battle-ready.

“Things are fine, Dick, they are,” Jason tried to reassure, “It’s just been…” He took a breath, and it was a little easier this time, to push past his nerves. He told him what he’d told Tim. What he’d learned from Constantine...and about the call from Talia.

“Don’t tell Damian she called. He doesn’t know.” 

Dick looked a little sad at the news but he nodded, and then he asked, “How was that...to talk to her?”

Jason was not prepared for the question. No one had ever really _asked_ about his relationship with Talia and he felt wrong footed trying to come up with an answer.

“I don’t know she’s...it kind of sucked,” he admitted with a choked laugh, “but...it was nice that she tried, I guess.” He shrugged, a bittersweet twist to his mouth. “Didn’t end on the greatest note, though.”

“No?” 

Jason shook his head. “I called her a liar and she started crying.” He scrubbed a hand over his face with a deep breath. “Then she hung up on me.” 

Dick grimaced but he only nodded, like he was trying not to react any more than that. 

“I didn’t want to believe her, you know...it’s...I kinda wanted it to be something else, not...me.” 

“Jay.” Dick frowned, but Jason interrupted him before he could say anything else.

“No, I _know._ It’s not my fault and all that. I’ve been over this with Bruce already, I _know._ I just don’t know how else to put it.” He shifted in his seat, pulling his feet off the coffee table and setting them flat on the ground, holding onto Apples to not jostle her too much.

Dick sighed but he nodded. “I’m sorry it’s not an easy fix,” he said, very quietly, “but I’m glad you talked to Bruce about it and that it helped...it did I mean, right? To talk to him?”

His eyes searched over Jason’s face, like he was ready to go set the man straight if need be and Jason felt amused and touched at the same time. “Yeah it helped. He’s...he’s been good.”

“Yeah?” 

And Dick looked so relieved and even a little bit happy that Jason just blurted, “He asked me to go with him to one of his appointments.”

Dick blinked, leaning back a little further in surprise. “One of his therapy appointments?” 

Jason licked his lips. “Yeah…”

“What did you say?” His voice was innocent, light, no pressure, like Jason could give any answer and he would be unsurprised and unbothered; Jason took a breath and shrugged.

“I figure it can’t hurt. I’m not committing to anything yet but…” he dropped his voice low, without really meaning to, throat painfully tight when he admitted, “I’ve gotta do something. And B likes her a lot. I don’t think I’d wanna...to keep seeing her long term, probably. Would be weird if we both did but…” he smoothed a hand down Apples’ back. “It’s a place to start, I guess.”

Dick blinked. Eyebrows all drawn up in the middle, eyes wet and shiny. “That’s great, Jay,” His voice even cracked when he said it and Jason couldn’t help the twisting shame at how _obvious_ his relief was. 

“Hey, I know I’m fucked in the head but you don’t need to _cry_ about it,” he said, a little angrily. 

Dick scoffed, lifting his one foot off the floor and shoving him in the knee with it. “Jay, stop it. No one thinks that. You know I’ve been to therapy. I’m just.” He stopped, chewing on his bottom lip for a second and looking off to the side. “I want you to be happy...and I feel like you haven’t been in...in a long time.” He looked back, eyes locking onto Jason’s. “A therapist can help you figure out how to be, again.” 

Jason dropped his gaze, feeling his stomach twist up in his gut. He scrubbed a hand over her face, thinking about the conversation he’d _just_ had with Tim. _“don’t feel like you’re just - especially screwed up, or that any of us will judge you for…having issues.”_

“Yeah,” Jason mumbled, dropping his chin to his chest. “I’m sorry. I didn’t…”

“It’s ok, Jay. I just wish you’d stop thinking I’m _judging_ you all the time,” he said it through a half frustrated laugh, shoving him in the leg with his foot again.

Jason kicked it away with a grunt. “Alright, I know, I said I was sorry.” 

It didn’t stop him from then nudging him in the shoulder with the hand resting on the back of the couch. “I’m proud of you.”

Jason sputtered, throwing Dick an incredulous look. “Ok, now we’re stepping into ridiculous territory.” 

“Oh my god,” Dick dropped his head back all the way, until all Jason could see was the bottom of his chin. “Why are you like this?” He said to the ceiling.

“Why are _you_ like this?” Jason hiked Apples higher in his lap, just so he could kick his foot out enough to hit Dick back. “What is there to be proud of? That I didn’t full on self-destruct?” 

Dick groaned, lifting his head and giving Jason an unimpressed look. “That you talked to someone Jay, and you’re asking for help when you need it instead of, yeah, self destructing. It’s not easy, it takes guts. So yeah, you’re my little brother, I’m allowed to be proud of you.” 

Jason snorted, but maybe only to cover up a hitched breath. “Dick.” He didn’t know what to say beyond that, or how to form words to go with the tangle of feelings wrapped up inside of him. 

But like he could sense it, that Jason couldn’t take much more of the conversation, like it might be pushing the bounds into _painful_ , he moved his hand from the back of the couch to Jason’s shoulder and squeezed gently, before he changed the subject. 

“Man, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I am super jealous.”

Jason swallowed against a tight throat, momentarily confused. 

“She’s so sweet.” He leaned forward, dropping his hand from Jason’s shoulder and letting Apples sniff at him again so he could pet at her some more. “Damian picked her out, you know.”

Jason hummed. He’d known the dog was Damian’s idea, that hadn’t been surprising, but he hadn’t known _that._

“Yeah. He went with Bruce to look at the shelter. Had all these questions and parameters the dog had to meet.” 

Apples took a tentative step out of Jason’s lap and he dropped his arms to the couch, giving her space to move as she wagged her tail a little more insistently this time. 

Dick grinned, leaning back again and patting at his folded leg until she walked up and just sat down, looking up at him. He took a deep breath, staring down at her, and then he whispered, _“Oh no.”_

Jason cracked up, folding his arms around his stomach. 

“This isn’t fair. How do you _and_ Damian get a dog? Where is my dog?” 

“Please,” Jason finally managed, “You’re hardly ever home. That would be torture for a dog.” 

Dick heaved a heavy, forlorn sounding sigh and scratched at Apples’ neck, making a choked up noise when she turned her head nearly upside down to get that perfect angle. 

“Come on,” Jason chuckled, “she’s probably antsy from laying around so long now. I bet she’ll play with you, if you grab a toy.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really didn't want to split this chapter but in the end I felt it was best lol. I wrote the whole thing and then....it was over 13k words and I hemmed and hawed and finally decided to split it into two. So _this_ technically, is the penultimate chapter. (But there will also be an epilogue) So we are looking at two more updates. They will probably be pretty quick because I need to finish this baby off before Nanowrimo starts. The next one will probably be up in just a few days, and then the epilogue. Love you all<3 Hope you enjoyed!! 
> 
> Chapter title from So Down by Mother Mother


	33. I'll keep falling, I'll keep falling apart, until I'm whole again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's dinner, and a movie, and dessert. 
> 
> Maybe it's a little overwhelming but, all in all...it's not bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Warnings! This chapter is basically all fluff<3 I hope you enjoy.

When Damian appeared in the doorway again, like a silent little shadow, Dick was laid out on the floor with a rope toy, letting Apples pull with all her might on the other end while Jason was laying across the couch again, half asleep.

He glanced up to find the kid there, hovering without a word. “Demonbird, either come in the room or leave, you’re being creepy.”

Dick snorted, pushing himself to sit up as Damian walked up to the back of the couch, looking annoyed but otherwise unaffected. “I was attempting to be sure your _private_ _conversation_ had ended.” 

“Oh, he is gonna be a charmer,” Jason mumbled under his breath. 

Dick managed to stifle a laugh by clearing his throat, not looking at Jason when he said, “Yes, Damian, we’re done talking. What’s up?” 

He gave them both a narrow eyed look, “Pennyworth says that dinner will be ready soon, he asked for your attendance.” 

Dick looked over at Jason, a crooked half smile on his face.

*

With everyone there, Jason decided it would be best to keep Apples in his room through dinner. It wasn’t likely to be quiet or relaxed and he couldn’t hold her in his lap the whole time. So he took a minute to let her outside and feed her before he shut her in his room until dinner was over. 

He didn’t expect to feel quite so guilty when he shut the door, but he figured he’d check on her after a little while and...she had to be able to be on her own some of the time. 

By the time he made it down to the dining room, everyone was already there. Despite the generally positive sequence of events the day had been moving along Jason still felt sweat break out on the palms of his hands when he walked in. 

Babs sat next to Bruce, in the chair Damian usually took at breakfast, and she was the first to spot him. 

Her hands were folded under her chin and she looked over her glasses at him with a small smile before she waved him over to the empty seat next to her. Jason shuffled his feet a bit, oddly self conscious at the attention, but still glad to have a designated spot at the table when he finally reached it.

“Cass isn’t sitting here?” He double checked anyway, when he pulled out the chair.

Babs hummed. “Not tonight, she’s abandoned me for Tim and Stephanie.” 

Jason could hear giggling in the kitchen, before Damian came out with his arms crossed, a scowl on his face, and Titus on his heels. 

“Why the sour face?” Dick asked, leaning back in his chair across from Babs, on Bruce’s other side. 

Jason thought it was weird they always sat across the table from each other. Like they didn’t want to be within touching distance, _just in case_ or something. It felt a lot more like they were parents to Jason, spread out among their children to make sure none of them misbehaved. 

“They are insufferable when they are together,” Damian grumbled as he made his way around the table and took the chair next to Dick. 

Bruce hummed in what definitely sounded like agreement and Dick stifled a snort before giving Bruce a _look._ Babs bit her lip and shook her head.

“It’s nothing compared to when Conner is with them.” 

Damian made a disgusted sound just as the noise in the kitchen grew louder, the three of them filtering out into the dining room and scattering around the table just before Alfred brought out the food. 

There was little conversation while everyone dished up, too hungry and worn out from the cold, dark weather not to focus solely on the hot food in front of them. 

Stephanie, unsurprisingly, was the first one to start things off, diving into some story from patrol while Damian pretended to plug his ears and Dick elbowed him in the ribs. Babs huffed just before Alfred cut into the conversation with a light warning about keeping work talk _downstairs._

“So,” Babs said, quietly enough only Jason could hear, when the conversation turned to something about some tv show Dick and Tim had started watching. “I hear you’ve had some pretty big news in the last couple days.” 

Jason stared down at his plate, fork stilling in his mashed potatoes, and tried not to hunch his shoulders when he shrugged. 

“Word gets around fast, huh?” 

It _still_ annoyed him that everyone seemed to just talk about him whenever they pleased but it also made sense. It seemed like good news to the rest of them and even if it was embarrassing to Jason it was still easier than him telling every one of them personally, and they deserved to know that things were sort of...paused at least. That they weren’t likely to get any worse than they were now, as long as Jason took steps to address them.

They didn’t all need to _ask_ him about it though. 

Of course, this was Babs, and she wasn’t one to leave a stone unturned.

“It does when you’re me,” she smirked around her next bite, leaning back in her chair and looking at him the same way Dick had when he’d first gotten there, like she was checking for hidden injuries. 

“I’m fine,” he said with a little more bite than he intended. It wasn’t like he wanted to rehash all of this every hour, all day. 

“I know,” she said back, voice light, “you always are. It’s just good to see you. We don’t talk much these days. You never visit.” 

“I’m busy a lot,” Jason half joked as he took his next bite, still not quite looking up.

She let out a very quiet sigh and nudged him in the shoulder with her own, making him knock his fork into his teeth with a scowl. “Ha ha. There's no pressure. I’m just saying,” she shrugged, “It would be cool if you visited some time.” 

Jason hadn’t been to the clock tower many times, it wasn’t a place he _needed_ to be much. Not as Red Hood; even less as an estranged member of the Wayne family. 

“Come with Cass next time. I’ll make us lunch and we can make fun of Dick’s old costumes.” 

Jason half choked on lamb and carrots and glanced up to see Dick staring at them both with a faux challenging look.

“I heard that, and I don’t know what you think you’re talking about.” He pointed his fork at them. “Every costume I have ever worn has been the peak of fashion.” 

This time Bruce snorted, and Dick dropped his fork, wide eyed in betrayal. “I can’t believe you.” 

Damian was snickering off to the side and pretty soon the conversation devolved into arguing about who had worn the worst costume and why. Jason mostly just sat back and listened at first, though he laughed maybe harder than was called for when Stephanie called Tim _Condom Head._

“Miss _Stephanie,”_ Alfred immediately scolded, mustache twitching in disapproval. Stephanie ducked her head but didn’t seem all that sorry, shoulders still shaking with suppressed laughter. Tim, of course, didn’t take it lying down, especially not while Damian wasn’t even bothering to cover his mouth while he grinned around his next bite.

“Excuse me? Did you _see_ Jason’s stint with the tube helmet?”

“Whoa whoa,” Jason waved his hands in the air, “that is uncalled for.”

Tim raised an eyebrow his direction, as did some others, and Jason shrugged, ignoring the smirk Babs was attempting to smother, “I wasn’t exactly myself back then-”

Tim only leaned forward, eyes narrowed. “So you admit that it was awful.”

Cass, of all of them, sputtered in giggles, like she could no longer hold them in and Jason, ready to defend himself, deflated with a coughed out laugh, bowing his head over his plate with a weighted sigh. “Yes, it was awful.”

The table erupted in laughter, echoes of _‘I knew it!’_ thrown at him from all directions. 

Babs gripped his arm unexpectedly and Jason looked over to find her looking at him with an surprisingly serious expression. “It’s good that you acknowledge it. It means you can change.”

Dick snorted so hard from across the table he choked, dissolving into an uncontrolled coughing fit that left him red in the face and wheezing, waving off Bruce when he made to stand up but accepting the fresh glass of water from Damian when he rushed into the kitchen to get it. 

_“Wrong pipe,”_ he rasped when he could finally go a few seconds without coughing, and the laughter around the table had subsided to stifled giggles while everyone made awkward eyes at each other, waiting to make sure he’d survive. 

Bruce still leaned over and patted him harshly on the back, enough to jolt him forward and draw a watery eyed glare. “That’s not helping.” 

Jason leaned back in his seat, unable to stifle his laugh when he shook his head. “Don’t ever change Dickie.”

Dick turned his attention back to Jason, shoulders slumping in apparent exhaustion. “You’re the worst.” 

Jason clutched at his chest with one hand. “You wound me.” 

When he glanced over at Bruce, when he felt the man’s eyes on him, he could feel himself flush at the crooked half smile on his face, taking the place of his previous concern. Jason looked away, uninterested in acknowledging the...strange ease there was in the room. The lack of tension that had always accompanied Jason at any sort of _family_ _gathering_ in the past. 

The very act of thinking about it had a small swell of nerves crawling up his spine. Like he was somehow going to mess this up. Say the wrong thing, take something the wrong way, overreact to someone’s harmless joke when they were just trying to make him laugh but- 

It was going ok, for now. 

*

When everyone was finished eating, and empty plates were scattered around the table, Jason excused himself, though everyone was still talking. He wanted to check on Apples, and maybe take a breather. After spending most of his time either by himself or with one or two people in the manor, it was a little overwhelming to be surrounded by all of them at once. 

Of course Apples was fine, and he found her curled up in the dog bed at the foot of his own before she popped her head up and started wagging her tail, jumping up to go greet him. He played with her for a bit, just long enough that he started to think it was probably rude, after he’d spent so long ignoring everyone already and no longer had an injury or illness to excuse himself.

It was long enough that the others had probably gotten up from the table for whatever tasks. Jason knew Stephanie sometimes liked to help Alfred with the dishes if he wanted the company, and Cass would join them sometimes - little things he used to overhear on patrol, but had yet to see for himself.

Damian might retreat to his room for a while, or just to grab his sketchbook, or check on his pets. Dick would end up in the den, trying to recruit people for a movie. Babs would either head home or reluctantly agree to a film after insistent badgering.

And this time Tim and Bruce had retreated back to Bruce’s study apparently, just in time for Jason to catch the tail end of their conversation as he was heading out to find where everyone had ended up, Apples right behind him. 

It was muffled at first, behind the closed door, before it lurched open just as Jason was approaching, “-nce Jason starts I’ll have more free time to look at the suit designs again, Lucius sent me over plans the other day to theoretically make our capes better gliders-”

“Tim, the idea is for you to do _less,_ not-”

Tim stopped short, rounding the doorway only to almost trip over his feet when he was faced with Jason stopping at the same moment to avoid collision.

“Oh,” he blinked, wide eyed as Bruce appeared behind him.

“Jason,” he said, obviously surprised to see him.

There was an awkward pause before Jason blurted, “Once I start what?” 

Tim winced, “You haven’t asked him yet, have you?” he was looking down the hall, not at either of them, but was clearly talking to Bruce, who let out a soft sigh, one hand coming up to grip the edge of the door. 

“Haven’t asked me what?” 

“Tim,” Bruce said, putting his other hand on his shoulder.

“Yep, I’m gone. Have a good talk.” With that he gave a short-awkward wave to Jason, mouth twisting to the side, before he turned all the way around and disappeared down the hall. 

Jason swallowed, nerves swelling faster than he expected, the light echo of the Pit in the back of his mind like an annoying song he couldn’t get out of his head. 

“Come in, for a moment?” Bruce gestured to the inside of his office, stepping to the side to give Jason room to enter. 

He nodded, lips pressed thin as he stepped past, calling Apples in after him. He didn’t sit down, and neither did Bruce; closing the door and standing there stiffly with his hand still on the knob.

“Bruce, what is it?” Jason asked, “I’m getting sick of everybody talking about me-”

“I know, I’m sorry.” he did look it, at least, face tired and shoulders sloped. He dropped his hand from the knob, letting it fall awkwardly to his side. “I was going to say something to you soon. I just thought I might wait a couple more days after...the most recent discoveries.” 

Jason huffed a breath, chafing at how everyone was tiptoeing around his feelings now, and even more at how much he felt like he needed it. 

“Well the cat’s out of the bag so just-”

“You mentioned to me that you still want to help out, even if you’re not patrolling.”

Jason swallowed, feeling caught off guard. “Yeah?” Apples was slowly wandering away from him, sniffing at the nearest furniture, and he couldn’t stop glancing at her even as Bruce stepped away from the door and went to his desk, turning and opening a laptop to face the rest of the room.

“I know you were probably intending for it to be related to our other identities, but…”

Jason watched him, back hunched so he could use the laptop standing up. “But what?”

“I’ve been trying to get Tim to cut back at WE since...well, since I came back. I’ve taken back over as the active CEO but Tim is...invested still, and I certainly wouldn’t push him out.” Jason shifted his weight, feeling like this should be making perfect sense but also like it made zero. 

“He keeps an eye on a number of divisions, but often he simply covers whatever needs doing, wherever there’s a gap or someone leaves a position and it hasn’t yet been filled.” He looked back at Jason, his expression somewhat cautious, gauging his reaction before he glanced back at the computer. “It could be as little or as much as you feel up to taking on, but…” Bruce turned fully back around, facing Jason with the laptop open next to him. “We talked about you stepping into a role there, if you want to.”

Jason blinked, eyes on the computer but not really seeing it, not comprehending what any of the information meant. “This is just a preliminary idea,” Bruce breathed out, gesturing to the screen. “There are a few different positions open.”

Jason took a hesitant step forward, glancing up to Bruce’s stiff expression before he looked back at the laptop. He just caught the words _‘Community Outreach Program’_ before Bruce spoke again.

“We can discuss details later. If you’d rather stay out of the business I understand-”

“No- uh, I mean,” Jason swallowed, rubbing at the back of his head as a swirling mix of unidentifiable feelings welled up and threatened to choke him. “I’ll think about it, it could be…I...might want to. Depending what it is.”

Bruce watched him for a moment, as if determining whether he believed him or not, before he finally nodded his head, the hint of a smile pulling at his mouth.

“Good. Then we can discuss the details later.”

Jason nodded, swallowing roughly. “Sure.”

And Jason didn’t say it, he couldn’t and he never would probably, but the idea blew him away a little, leaving him breathless with an intangible sense of something he couldn’t name. 

He had been a part of their second lives since he came back. First as an enemy, then a pseudo ally, all the way up to a grudging part of the team on days when he’d admit it to himself. But he’d never had any official part in _this._ Jason wasn’t connected with the Waynes anymore, he’d never had a place in their civilian lives. 

Until now, that is. 

It wasn’t something he’d really thought about because it never even seemed like an option. But apparently it was. Even for the kid who never graduated high school - had never even held a real job. 

“Are you sure though, I mean I’m not - it’s not like I’ve got a lot of _experience_ with that stuff,” he hedged, shifting his weight as sudden nerves squirmed like worms in his stomach.

Bruce blinked, like the thought hadn’t even occurred to him as he leaned back against the desk. His expression shifted back to something serious, regarding him more carefully. 

“There would be a learning period, like with anything. But I’m confident that you’re fully capable of the work.” 

He watched him for a moment, while Jason tried to come up with something witty to say back that didn’t sound as fake as it probably would be. 

But then Bruce spoke again, voice hushed, “Tim never graduated either, you know.” 

Jason looked away, feeling his face heat. 

“But that’s something we could discuss too, if you wanted.” 

He looked up, wide eyed, brain not quite catching up to the words before Bruce continued.

“But right now I think the others are arranging another movie night in the den,” he said, hands clasping in front of him, “if you feel like joining them.” 

“Oh.” Jason cleared his throat, tucking his hands in his pockets, entirely overwhelmed and grateful for the out. “I’ll uh...I probably should. But we can…” He wasn’t sure how to finish, wasn’t sure where Bruce was even coming from. Jason didn’t have a legal identity - faking a diploma would be a lot easier than actually getting one but, if Jason wasn’t the only one who thought about it...maybe it wasn’t as crazy as it seemed. 

“We’ll talk more,” Bruce nodded, “I promise.” 

“Ok, yeah…I’ll...” he looked down, eyes searching for Apples and finding her sniffing around the edge of the desk. “Thanks,” he finally ended, voice a little rough as he patted his leg to get her attention, looking up to find that same _soft_ look Jason still wasn’t used to seeing on Bruce these days. The light pull on the edge of his mouth, the disappearance of the everpresent crease between his brows. Jason thought he even looked younger, for a moment, while he stood there trying to think of something to say before he gave one last nod, the words still out of reach. And then he ushered Apples back out of the room, warmth emanating from somewhere deep within his chest. 

He wandered into the hall, his head still spinning, walking on autopilot all the way to the den, head buzzing with so much that it was largely blank, unable to focus. 

Soft conversation could be heard from inside the room when he managed to pull himself out of it. He hesitated in the doorway, taking a deep breath and looking down at Apples waiting at his feet. Her tail wagged softly and her ears were perked, eyes focused on the doorway, where she could hear people on the other side. 

From what Jason could hear, they were discussing whose turn it was to pick the movie. 

_“I believe it is Cassandra’s turn,”_ Damian’s ‘better than thou’ tone was in full swing and Tim squawked.

_“It is my turn! It was supposed to be my turn last time but Stephanie took it.”_

_“Was her turn,”_ Cass insisted. 

_“Just let Tim choose so he stops whining,”_ Stephanie snarked back.

Jason huffed a laugh under his breath and finally made his move, stepping through the doorway to a bunch of swiveling heads.

“Jason!” Tim threw his hands up, “you were there last time, tell them it is my turn.”

Jason made a faux thinking face, squinting eyes and mouth twisted to the side, “I don’t know…”

Tim dropped his hands to the back of the couch, expression going flat. “I’m betrayed.” 

Dick threw his head back on the couch, laughing with his eyes closed before Jason made his way around, carefully picking Apples up off the floor when they came across Titus laid out next to Damian again. Babs had her wheelchair set up at the end of the couch, and Jason took the seat just on the other side of the armrest, Dick on his other side, Tim next to him. 

Cass and Stephanie were both crammed in the armchair at the other end, despite there being room for at least one more person while Damian seemed perfectly happy to keep to the floor, feet stretched out under the coffee table while he played some game on his phone. 

“Alright, alright,” Jason said with a heavy sigh. “Timbo’s right, let the kid choose the movie.” 

Stephanie groaned and Tim turned his flat glare directly at her. 

Jason didn’t listen to whatever dispute they ended up having, focused as he was on making sure Apples was settled and not too overly nervous with everyone around making noise. She was sitting up, back leaned into his stomach while her cone turned like a radar dish as she watched everyone, attention snapping to each person that spoke. She seemed alert but not anxious, so he let it be, petting up and down her side while the movie was finally starting and someone turned down the lights.

The cat came in at one point, jumping up on the back of the couch with no warning and sending Apples into a sudden frenzy. Her tail wagged so hard it almost hurt when it snapped against his arm and he had to hold her in place when it jumped down between Dick and Jason’s cushions. The cat at first seemed unbothered by her excitement, arching his back and rubbing up against Jason’s side only to get licked directly in the face. Pennyworth pulled back, ears down and eyes closed and shook his head rapidly before deftly leaping over her, and Jason’s lap, onto the armrest, dropping into Barbara’s lap instead. 

She snorted softly, bringing her hands up to pet at the cat and then offering her hand out to Apples, who sniffed at it like crazy, pressing her nose directly to her knuckles.

“You gotta learn to be less friendly,” Jason whispered to her with a half laugh, still holding on enough to make sure she didn’t think she could run and follow. 

They were watching something Jason had never heard of, which wasn’t hard; it took place in outer space but that was about all he’d gathered so far. He was tired, and it was dark in the room and he had Apples in his lap and Dick and Babs on either side of him. 

He remembered feeling like a spell had been cast the first night he had tried to do this, with an IV in his arm and so high strung he’d run out as soon as the movie was over. 

It hadn’t felt like he belonged there before. Like he was just invited to be polite, but now, as he slouched low in the cushions and listed to the side right up until his head bumped Dick’s shoulder, he didn’t feel so out of place. Not like he had before.

Somewhere in the middle, when Jason was half drifting in sleep, Bruce came in, a hand ghosting over the top of his head before it disappeared and Jason blinked his eyes open just enough to see a dark shape settle into the forgotten chair on the other side of the room. You couldn't really see the tv from it, so it remained empty, but Jason watched him sit down. It was hard to tell with the lights off but he could just see the shine of his eyes as he gazed around the room at all of them, until they landed on Jason. He blinked back at him for a moment, right up until he couldn’t stand it and looked away.

He dropped off again quickly, jostled just enough each time Dick laughed to blink his eyes open and glance at the screen before they were falling closed again. Right up until Dick nudged him in the shoulder. “Hey, you’re gonna miss the rescue scene, you gotta watch this part,” he whispered in his ear. 

Jason grunted, pushing himself up enough to try to stay awake and see what was going on. He’d barely seen any part of it, didn’t care much about the rescue scene but he could see the white of Dick’s teeth from the light of the screen and he humored him.

Cass and Stephanie were whispering to each other in the corner, until Damian shushed them loudly and Cass shoved him with her foot. Stephanie huffed a laugh before slipping out of the recliner they were sharing and darting in front of the screen just to disappear out of the room.

“Hey, where are you- you’re gonna miss the ending!” Tim tried to say as she vanished, but Babs hushed him and he dropped back into the couch with a sigh.

There was some dramatic scene, a little crying, friends reuniting in a spacecraft bound for Earth when one of them was thought dead. 

There was some sort of time skip and the guy was sitting on a park bench in the sun, obviously recovered, telling a story to some kid. It was all nice and philosophical, gave a little speech about life that ended on a positive but humorous note that Jason probably didn’t fully appreciate since he’d missed most of the movie, and then the credits were rolling. 

Someone got up to turn the lights back on, and there was murmuring and stretching around the room as a few people stood, mumbling about using the bathroom. Jason sat up, rubbing at his face with one hand and shaking his head to try to get rid of the drowsiness.

And then someone cleared their throat and everyone turned toward the entrance of the room to find Stephanie standing there, a large platter with a cover in one hand, and a smaller matching one in the other. Alfred stood just behind her, a mildly amused expression and a stack of plates and silverware in his own.

Babs was suppressing a grin, Jason could tell, so he nudged her in the arm, “What is this?”

She only nudged him back, giving him a quick look. “You’ll see. You’ll like it.”

Cass’s low laugh filtered in from the other side of the room and Stephanie officially stepped over the threshold.

“Ok,” she said, like the beginning of a speech, “As is established, this family is ridiculous.”

There were coughs and half laughs, Bruce looked dubiously amused, leaned forward in his seat. 

“But, sometimes, _sometimes,_ it has good ideas and I wanted to take this opportunity to celebrate its newest-baby member.” With that, she continued to the coffee table that had been pushed out into the middle of the room to allow more space in front of the couch. She knelt down and set both platters in the center before taking off the cover of the larger one with an elaborate flourish. 

It was a cake, which had been obvious to start with, but it was covered in blue fondant with little red apples layered on top. It was a surprisingly close representation of the print on Apples’ cone and Jason let out a huff of laughter as a few ‘ _aws’_ were heard around the room. 

The second, smaller platter held a smaller cake, one that looked more like a larger version of the cupcake Apples had been gifted the night before. 

“Alfred, if you’ll do the honors,” she gestured to the larger of the two, stepping to the side so the butler could move into place. He knelt down and began to cut it, placing each piece on a plate and handing them out one by one. Stephanie followed suit on the other side of the coffee table, pulling a knife from who knew where and starting on the dog version.

She was just in front of him when she turned around with the first piece.

“The cake looks great,” he said, still holding Apples while she stretched her neck out toward the table, sniffing the air like crazy. 

“Thank you,” she said primly, holding out the first piece of puppy cake to Jason. “It’s a hobby. And I might be trying to weasel my way into favorite aunt territory.” 

Jason laughed as he took the plate, making sure Apples was squarely in his lap before he set the plate down on his knees and let her have at it. “Well, it’s nice of you. Apples definitely appreciates it.”

Stephanie smirked as she cut into the cake again. “I’m sure she does.”

The noise level in the room began to pick up a little, energized by the introduction of cake as they all redistributed themselves around the room, sitting on the arms of the couch and recliner, or just the carpet. Babs had rolled herself toward Bruce, where he still sat off to the side, mostly away from the others.

Stephanie looked back at Jason as she was tipping the next piece onto a plate, her lips pursed in a contemplative expression before she spoke, “Listen, I know we’re not close, which,” her face shifted to something more annoyed, eyes half lidded and eyebrows high, “being totally honest, if we were I would punch you for pulling that crap at the dog park.”

Jason blinked as she went on in a faux-nasally tone he surmised was meant to be him. _“‘Oh no, people who are concerned about me, I can’t let them know I’m possibly_ dying from an infection.’ Super not cool.” She gave him a flat look before glancing back at the cake and setting the piece to the side. “But we aren’t fully fledged buds yet, so I’m cutting you some slack here.”

Jason stuttered out a laugh, swiping a hand over his mouth and still holding onto the plate with the other as Apples did her best to knock it out of his lap. “Thanks,” he said, “I’m grateful.”

She glanced around the room at everyone, as the cake was finished being distributed and a piece was set on the table for Jason. “And...I’ve been estranged from this family before. I know it’s not easy to _reintegrate.”_

Jason swallowed roughly, nodding as she picked up her own slice, diving in with her fork and stuffing a bite in her mouth. “But cake helps,” she said around the food, “So if you ever need a baking buddy.” She gave him a crooked smile, blue tinted food coloring smeared across her front teeth. 

Jason smiled back, surprised at the unexpected offer. “Then I know who to call, I guess.”

“Damn right.”

She stood up then, alerted by something Jason missed before giving him one last quick smile and going off to collude with Cass, probably. Jason picked up his own piece of cake, taking just a couple bites before he set it to the side. It was good, but Apples seemed a little nervous now that everyone was moving around, and talking, and making noise, hunched over her plate with her tail tucked down. So he just smoothed a hand down her back over and over, staying right where he was. 

It seemed to be working at first, though Jason forced himself to pull away the cake before she was entirely finished. He didn’t want her on that much junk all the time, and she had already slowed down a lot, like she was probably full. 

But then Dick decided to go teasing Titus.

The dog had already finished his piece when Dick picked up the remainder of Apples’ slice off the coffee table and held it up above his head.

_“Richard,_ do not tease him!” Damian demanded angrily, but Titus only sat his butt on the ground without prompting. Damian gave Dick a smug smirk. “He is well trained.”

“Annoyingly so,” Dick laughed, but he apparently wasn’t passing the cake fast enough, or maybe it was the rising activity in the room. Tim was discussing pulling out a board game with Stephanie, and Babs was laughing with Alfred about something while Cass attempted to pull Bruce out of his chair while simultaneously playing with the cat. 

Whatever the reason, Titus got excited, and he _barked_.

Titus wasn’t a small dog, and the sound of it was startling even to the _people_ in the room, cutting through conversations across the board. But _Apples_ panicked about as much as she had her first night in the manor when he’d walked into the room and she lurched out of Jason’s arms before he could stop her, jumping off his lap and pressing herself down to the floor and up against the couch like she wanted nothing more than to stuff herself underneath it. Her ears were down and her tail tucked under. The noise in the room dropped abruptly.

“Oh shit,” Dick murmured, stepping toward them.

At the same time Damian gave a harsh whisper, _“Titus, hush.”_

“It’s ok,” Jason quickly slipped off the couch, scooping Apples into his arms. She let him, even though she didn’t like being picked up and carried.

He hesitated for a moment, standing there with everyone staring at him. He felt bad if he just disappeared with her, he didn’t want to leave everyone but he didn’t want to shut her somewhere by herself when she was scared either. 

But then Bruce stood up, Cass quickly stepping out of the way.

“I can watch her,” he motioned toward the door and Jason nodded without really thinking about it, following after him as he shuffled around everyone to leave the room. Jason slowed though, when they hit the hall.

“You don’t have to,” he said as Bruce kept walking, forcing him to turn around as Jason hiked Apples a little higher in his grip. She was stiff and obviously uncomfortable, front legs practically wrapped around his neck.

Bruce only motioned him further, waiting until he’d caught up to him. “It’s alright Jay. I want to. I have some things I need to work on in the study anyway...and I want you to have fun with everyone.” 

Jason felt his face warm, nodding once before he set her down and let her follow him, making a pit stop at his room to grab her bed, and carrying it on to Bruce’s office. He set it next to his desk, so she could see him if she decided to lay down and then, instead of leaving right away, he dropped down onto the couch with a soft sigh.

He looked up at Bruce, who had followed them in, hands in his pockets, watching him with a questioning look. 

“I want to make sure she’s ok, before I go back,” he gave as a semi lame excuse. Maybe he needed a little break himself. He’d...he was having fun. And he was glad everyone was around and it somehow didn’t feel like anything was going to combust or fall apart. But it was a lot at once, when he’d had too many big changes, and revelations, and a lack of sleep in the last week. 

Bruce nodded, clearly understanding more than he said, and stepped around the small coffee table, taking the seat next to him just like he had the night before, when Jason had spilled his guts. 

They were both quiet for a moment, just watching Apples. She seemed a little apprehensive, only sitting next to Jason’s feet at first, despite her initial curiosity when they’d been in here earlier in the day. After a little while though, she began to sniff around the room again, tail still tucked close to her butt but obviously more relaxed than before.

“She’s doing pretty good,” Jason said, apropos of nothing.

Bruce looked over, chin resting on his fists, elbows on his knees, and nodded.

“Like, she seems like she’s getting used to new people faster. And she’s not so nervous with Titus either.”

“No, you’re right.” Bruce turned his attention back to Apples. “She’s resilient. Soon she’ll be happy to meet new people. It’s a lot of big change for her at once. But she’ll do well with you,” Bruce glanced over, “You take good care of her.” 

Jason blinked and ducked his head, an unexpected surge of warmth in his chest for the thousandth time. When he spoke his voice was rough, “Thank you, for- for her. It- she’s-” His words dropped off, unable to express how much he already loved her, and how much it meant to him that Bruce had extended this even after everything else he’d already done to help.

Bruce was quiet for a moment, not saying anything when he leaned over, wrapping an arm tight around Jason’s shoulders and pulling him into his chest, his other hand coming up to grip the back of his neck, strong and firm and kind, before he pulled back just enough that he could look him in the eyes. “I know. I’m glad. Now go enjoy your cake.”

Jason let out a wet laugh, swiping a thumb under his eyes and looking back at Apples to find her inspecting her bed, digging in it and half dragging it across the floor. 

“Ok.”

Bruce squeezed his shoulder one more time before he stood up and Jason followed his lead, heading to the door and looking back just once to see the man leaning down to pet Apples before stepping over her bed and slipping around to the other side of the desk.

He ducked out the door finally, closing it behind him and heading back to the others. When he neared the den he slowed down, stepping into the room silently and just standing in the doorway for a moment.

No one noticed him at first. 

Dick was holding Damian just above the ground, back to his chest, arms wrapped under his armpits and lifting just high enough that his toes didn’t quite reach the ground while the kid scowled like a wet cat. Tim, Stephanie, and Cass all three had frosting smeared across their faces _and_ their clothes, and Babs had her face in her hands. 

Alfred was carrying a stack of plates back toward the door and he gave Jason a long suffering look as he neared. 

“I do hope you aren’t too attached to your current outfit.”

Jason snorted, feeling that same warmth in his chest expand out through his limbs. “Like they could get me if they tried.”

“Do not let them hear you say that,” Alfred murmured as he passed through the doorway back toward the kitchen. 

Titus was the next to spot him, coming over to greet him and dragging everyone else’s attention his way.

“Jay!” Dick said, swinging Damian around and accidentally knocking one of his feet into the side of the coffee table.

_“Grayson-”_

“Sorry, sorry.”

“You better eat your cake before it’s _repurposed,”_ Babs said, shielding it with her hand as Stephanie stumbled near the table with a gasp and half a slice of cake shoved up her nose.

_“You asshole.”_

Cass was in stitches, palms damningly blue, and Tim was wide eyed between them, hands out like he thought he might have to break up a fight.

There was a moment then, of absolute disbelief that filled him; a sensation of unreality so strong that he had to shake his head against it. He just never imagined he would get to be here for this. 

Be included in it.

It seemed bizarre to think that two months ago Jason could have scoffed at all of this. Told himself he never even wanted it.

But now it was right in front of him, and around him; in the study and down the hall to the kitchen, sprinkled throughout the room.

Maybe it was mostly down to chance; that everything aligned at the right time. That his disaster of a meltdown happened to coincide with Bruce’s mission of self improvement and they somehow crossed paths just when Jason needed it most. But as things stood, as much of a struggle as it all was, and as hard as he knew it was still going to be - he wouldn’t change it.

It felt solid. And good. And as Jason stepped toward the coffee table he thought the only thing missing was Roy and Kori.

He wished they were there, but he knew when they got back, whenever that was, that they’d be happy for him.

And maybe he would be back on patrol by then. Apples would be out of her cone, and maybe he’d be back in his own apartment.

Or maybe not. Maybe he’d still be here.

But he thought, as he reached down and picked up his cake in his bare right hand - really, he was ok with that.

And right now?

“Jay,” Dick said hesitantly, stepping back with Damian still dangling from his front, now stiff and suspicious.

“Grayson, put me down,” he demanded, ignored.

Jason adjusted his grip, unsticking his middle finger from buttercream frosting that escaped the fondant. “You better run Dickie.”

_“Grayson put me down right now!”_

_“Jay no-!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BAM. We did it. 😭 We made it here!! There is still an "epilogue" to come but I'll probably post it tomorrow, because I gotta get myself going on NaNoWriMo, so be on the look out! Thank you all for your lovely comments. I love hearing from you<3


	34. Epilogue: I reach for my roots, I rearrange and I mend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce takes his son to an appointment, and an important conversation is had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's only been a day since the last chapter, but November is tomorrow!!! And I am ready to jump into NaNoWriMo. (kind of haha, we'll see) 
> 
> It's not noted, but I imagine this taking place maybe around 2-3ish weeks after the last chapter. <3
> 
> Also ALSO I FORGOT TO MENTION LAST CHAPTER!!! Please look at this amazing, amazing [fanart](https://kuna-mart.tumblr.com/post/633148146628919296/ahem-fanart-for-batbirdies-s-god-like-jason-fic) by Kuna-Mart. Everyone, please know that if you draw me fanart I will love your forever and always.

Bruce ran a hand through his hair, rubbing across his forehead and trying to blink away the last vestiges of sleep as he pressed send on a digital file to Gordon with new evidence on a current case. He checked the time, it was about 9:15. His appointment was at 10, and it was at least a 30 minute drive to get there.

He was in his study rather than the cave, the chill downstairs bothered his joints this time of year, as much as it irked him to acknowledge it. Plus he’d only been up for an hour or so, and he was trying not to start his days as Batman anymore, as much as possible.

He stood up from his desk, straightening his button down shirt and starting a mental checklist. His disguise was in the car, but he needed something for Jason. There was an old baseball cap and a pair of sunglasses in his closet, he knew. It would be as much of one as he’d ever convince Jason to wear, so he went on the hunt for it, setting the sunglasses on top of his own head and rolling the hat to stick in his pocket. 

Then we went looking for Jason. 

A soft knock at his bedroom door found no answer, and Bruce opened it for himself, very slowly. He’d taken to wearing headphones while he worked, and sometimes he wouldn’t hear, but a loud knock startled Apples. 

The room though, when he opened the door, was dark. 

Bruce flipped the lights on, though he doubted anyone would appear. Jason rarely slept this late these days and he found the room empty, just as he’d expected. It was neatly organized, and now painted a soft greed, with a dark blue quilt and gray sheets on the bed. The old Batman and Robin poster had been moved to sit just above the headboard and there was a leather jacket draped over the back of his desk chair, where a series of papers were spread out in front of an open laptop.

Something he was working on for Tim, no doubt.

There was a small armchair in the corner and Bruce knew a very specifically designed lamp was on order from somewhere in Europe. There was a dog bed tucked next to the desk as well. Of course it mostly went untouched; the mound of blankets arranged in a perfect nest atop the comforter looked much more slept in.

He found himself standing there for longer than he meant to. It happened often, lately. Sometimes he needed to pick out the differences, from then and now, to shake his mind out of old-haunted thoughts that perhaps it was just his imagination.

Perhaps the open notebook on the desk was there before and Bruce just wanted to think it had moved. Maybe everything he thought was the case wasn’t really at all, and he’d imagined every bit of it, because really, how could it possibly be true?

But the room had been gray before, not green. And there were posters missing, and new furniture, there had definitely never been a dog, and there was simply no mistaking how _lived in_ the room looked now. 

He gazed at the room for only a moment more, taking a short breath before he gave the door frame a soft pat and went back to his search.

He checked the library next, but found no Jason, only Cass, fast asleep in front of the fireplace, and so he slipped out silently.

Alfred was at the store Bruce believed, Damian at school, and the dining room was empty, as was the kitchen. But when he slipped through the mud room and peered through the glass of the back door, he could just make someone out in the distance.

There was a thicker layer of snow on the ground now, and Bruce went about pulling on his boots and a heavy coat before he ventured outside, slipping the sunglasses into a pocket before he went. They were a ways from the house, just dark shapes on a white background, but it looked like three of them, Jason, Titus, and Apples.

Despite their rocky start, Apples was now infatuated with Titus. As he left the manor and stepped into the snow Bruce watched her sprint in a wide circle around the larger dog when he lowered into a playful stance while Jason’s laugh echoed out over the grounds. 

Apples no longer sported her cone, and was surprisingly more active without it.

As he got closer, he could see Jason had a leash in one hand, though he knew he didn’t need it. Titus wandered, but never too far, and Apples was so strickenly in love with Jason she rarely strayed more than 50 feet from him if she could help it. 

Bruce had never been so glad he’d given in to one of Damian’s insistent “requests”.

“Apples, _Apples hey!”_ Jason shouted for her attention, letting out a short whistle. She snapped her head to the side and subsequently face planted in the snow.

“Oh shit,” Jason laughed out, jogging to her side. He knelt in the snow to check on her but she righted herself quickly, tail wagging rapid fire through the snow. “Yeah, you’ll grow into your feet,” he said as he ruffled a hand over her ears and stood back up. He glanced back then, to see Bruce standing there, hands in his pockets.

“Well, look who it is.”

“Morning,” Bruce greeted with a nod.

“Hey,” Jason snapped his fingers, eyebrows up in an excited expression that reminded Bruce so much of when he was younger it nearly took his breath away. “Watch this.” 

He took a step back from Apples, raising a hand out and snapping his fingers again.

Apples looked to him immediately, ears up.

“Sit.” He turned his palm up and bent his fingers toward the sky at the same moment that he spoke and Apples dropped her butt in the snow.

“Lay down.” He turned his hand over and pointed to the ground and she quickly obeyed.

“Up,” he pointed toward the sky with one finger and she got back to her feet just as Bruce reached them and stopped.

“Speak.” He made a fist and quickly opened it, spreading all five fingers out. 

This one Bruce knew he was working on, as Apples was a fairly quiet dog. He had to suppress a smile when she barked, because for some reason she followed it up with a short growl.

Jason snorted, dropping back to a squat and patting his knee so she ran to him.

“Hey, good job. _Good job.”_

Bruce couldn’t help the fondness in his chest even if he tried, though he wasn’t inclined to. He watched as the puppy rubbed all over whatever part of Jason she could reach while Jason did the same in return. “What a good dog, huh?” He mumbled quietly, barely loud enough for Bruce to hear.

“I’m impressed,” Bruce admitted, just as Titus came to greet him, nosing at his arm until he took his hand out of his coat pocket and stroked over his head. “Hello to you, too.”

“What are you doing out here?” Jason asked as he stood back up, turning back toward the manor, both dogs falling in step behind him.

Bruce turned to walk at his side, observing the grounds as they went. They stuck to the trail Bruce had walked out to meet them with, Apples having a little easier time in the shallower snow.

“It’s about time to leave,” Bruce said as he watched the puppy run up ahead of them, glancing back to make sure they were following.

He looked over just in time to see Jason’s face blank. “Shit, is it?” He dug his cell phone out of his pocket and glanced at the screen, the blank look never leaving. “Thought we had a little more time. I’ll have to get Apples cleaned up a bit.”

Then he looked up at Bruce, blue-green eyes with that hint of nervousness that Bruce hadn’t seen in years before the last few weeks. A look of open anxiety that he’d only ever let show when he was small, and only after months of living with Bruce, when he’d finally decided he could trust him.

“You’re sure it’s ok for me to bring her?” He asked, shaking Bruce from the thought. “I mean I’m sure I’d be ok on my own if it’s-”

“Yes, Jay,” Bruce interrupted, keeping his voice low, “she suggested it. She thought we might go over some things we can teach Apples that might help.”

Jason nodded, eyes traveling back to the puppy while he took a deep breath and blew it out in a large cloud of condensation. “Ok,” he swallowed, continuing to nod like he was working up to convincing himself.

Bruce wished he could say something to soothe his nerves. He hated to see him anxious like this, but he knew it was just a matter of getting there. Once he met Dr. Xie and had Apples with him, and did nothing but listen to Bruce talk to her and then maybe have a low pressure conversation about his dog - he’d feel better about it. But Bruce knew from experience that the anxiety wasn’t likely to resolve itself until then. 

For now it was distraction that worked best.

“You’ll like my disguise, it’s very Bond villain.”

Jason snorted, looking back as they hit the patio. “What, you put on a bald cap and an eye patch? Fake scar over the lip? Or maybe an eyebrow?” He motioned a quick slash over his mouth and then his eye.

Bruce raised a hand and drew a line down the left side of his mouth with his index finger; Jason gaped.

“You’re kidding me. You actually went for a _mouth scar?”_

Bruce walked ahead to open the back door, Apples and Titus both sitting patiently on the mat and looking back at them. 

“It’s an identifying marker. Draws the eye.”

“Holy crow, you are something else sometimes.” He shook his head as he stomped out his boots on the mat inside the door and knelt down to wipe off Apple’s feet while Bruce went about taking Titus’s gear off and cleaning him up as well.

“People remember the identifying mark before anything else, when they only see you once or twice.”

Jason shook his head again as he stood up. “Yeah, I get the psychology, you’re just so damn paranoid.”

Bruce suppressed a smile as he pulled out the pair of sunglasses and the half rolled up baseball cap he’d tucked in a pocket each as Jason took his coat off and draped it over his arm.

He glanced back shortly and did a double take. “Is that - that is not for me.”

Bruce held them up, one in each hand. “I’m afraid so.”

“I am legally dead, no one even knows who I _am,”_ he groused, still snatching them both out of his hands though. He tugged the hat down harshly over his wavy hair and slipped the sunglasses into his shirt pocket. Bruce did not flinch at the mention of his legal status but only because he’d gotten used to the casual references to his death over the last little while.

He wasn’t sure exactly how he felt about that. But it at least meant his stomach didn’t bottom out every time Jason made a joke.

Neither of them slipped off their shoes as they exited the mud room, choosing to risk Alfred’s ire if he noticed the damp footprints through the kitchen before they dried. But it was just a short trip through to the garage.

Jason still had a leash in his hand but he didn’t attach it to Apples’ harness yet, though he watched her carefully when the automatic lights came on. She was getting more curious about new environments every day, less nervous in general, as time passed. But although she sniffed at the tired on the first car they came to, she stuck close.

“So what _nondescript_ car do you take on this one?”

Jason spun around, arms out, gesturing to the wide selection around them.

Bruce hummed. “I take something different each week.”

 _“Paranoid,”_ Jason coughed in his hand, pretending to clear his throat as Bruce gave him a good humored nod.

“I take the Honda most often though.” Jason blinked and stopped in his tracks, pulling Apples up short.

“You own a Honda? What is it?” He turned around again, looking through the lineup while Bruce slipped past him and down an aisle, lights turning on as they went.

“Shit, it’s a _Civic._ That’s like...actually reasonable.”

“Just get in,” Bruce griped as he opened the driver’s side door, throwing his coat in the back seat.

It was a tight squeeze for both of them, as tall as they were. Jason let Apples in first, tossing his coat after Bruce’s and having to step over her and nearly fold himself in half to settle in the passenger seat, knees against the dash until he pushed the seat back. 

“Alright, let’s see this disguise.” He glanced around the interior of the car as Apples fumble to crawl up into his lap until he picked her up, settling her between his legs.

“It’s in the glove box,” Bruce motioned toward it and Jason clicked it open, pulling out a second hat and-

“Oh my god, a fake nose? _You wear a fake nose?”_

“It’s-”

 _“It’s a defining feature,_ yeah, you’ve said. Ridiculous.”

He still handed it over, and watched Bruce with narrow eyes as he flipped his sun visor down and used the mirror to fasten it to his face, pressing reusable adhesive into his skin, followed by a short, narrow, silicone scar that pressed flat up the left side of his mouth. 

“At least I don’t have a mustache,” he said as he put the hat on, one that thankfully didn’t match Jason’s.

“Hm,” he said in return, nothing more than a grunt as he settled into his seat, slouching so his head actually sat against the headrest instead of grazing the ceiling.

Bruce waited for a moment, until Jason looked at him quizzically.

“Sunglasses, Jay.”

 _“Shiitake mushrooms,_ you are insane,” he mumbled to himself, while pulling them out of his pocket and shoving them on with enough force to look painful. “Are we good now? We’re going to be late.”

Bruce eyed him for a moment, hand on the ignition. The aggravation in his voice had been largely playful so far, but there was an edge of tension in it now and he didn’t miss the compulsive way he pet the dog; constant and rhythmic, almost like he was counting.

He didn’t say anything as he started the engine, slowly pulling away from the lineup and through the short tunnel leading to the exit. Thankfully the driveway had been shoveled; Alfred hired a lawn service that took care of it every year, so the small car was still maneuverable even in the dreadful weather, all the way up to the main road where they were plowed each snowfall.

Of course the car had snow tires anyway, Bruce was nothing if not prepared.

All any of this meant though - was that it was a generally uneventful and quiet drive; the silence in the car all the more apparent for it.

“How are things going with the Outreach Program?” Bruce asked, adjusting the rear view mirror and attempting to not give his son too much direct attention.

Jason shrugged, listing a little sideways and leaning against the door. “Good. I’m still learning the ropes, but, I’m getting the hang of it.”

“That’s good,” Bruce offered, honestly. It _was_ good to hear, though Jason mumbled most of it, staring out the window with his eyebrows low enough to disappear behind the sunglasses. Bruce silently regretted having him put them on so early for how much they obscured his face.

“Some of these rich folks at the top are morons, but they seem to have good intentions at least,” he grumbled halfheartedly, one hand still on the top of Apples’ head.

Bruce huffed a soft breath, allowing himself a smile. “They’re not rich,” he argued. “They are very decidedly middle class.”

“Yeah well,” Jason muttered, “they don’t exactly know what it’s like to be poor either.”

Bruce eyed him for a moment, and the defensive curl of his shoulders as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Some of them do,” he said carefully, feeling out the words before he spoke. “We assess life experience through the hiring process...but I’ve always thought the most important thing is intentions, and willingness to listen. It’s why I thought you would do well in the position - life experience...but mostly how much I know you care.”

The hard line of tension slowly winding itself up through his shoulders seemed to suddenly dissolve, leaving him sagging in the seat with a soft sigh.

Bruce didn’t let on but he felt a weight in his own chest lift at the reaction, knowing he could get away with a more direct inquiry if he did it now.

“Is something bothering you, Jay?”

“It’s nothing,” he mumbled, instead of the heated denial Bruce was attempting to maneuver around. 

He was quiet for a moment before he risked pressing further. “That isn’t a no.”

Jason rested his forehead against the window, sunglasses hitting the glass with a quiet click.

It took a long pause, in the in between of which Apples shuffled herself around and laid down, head resting on Jason’s leg. When he finally did respond it was so quiet Bruce almost didn’t hear it over the buzzing road noise. 

“You really don’t want anybody seeing you go to therapy, huh.”

The tone was flat, and there was no heat behind it but Bruce was still left blinking in surprise and then internally berating himself for not realising how it would all appear to him.

“That’s not it,” he said, perhaps a little too insistent.

“Oh, really,” Jason mumbled again, not turning away from the window.

“Yes, really.”

Bruce hesitated, warring with himself on the right way to approach this. “There is nothing wrong with seeing a therapist. It could be helpful for anyone, regardless of their life experience or the problems they are facing-”

“Yeah, sure,” Jason bit out, “but you’re still ashamed of it.”

“What- I am not _ashamed_ of any part of this-” He struggled to keep his voice even but Jason jumped in before he could find some way to explain.

“You don’t even want people to see _me_ going to therapy. No one even knows who I am!” He pulled the sunglasses off angrily, scowling at the window and clutching them hard enough the lenses creaked.

“Jason,” Bruce took a deep breath, consciously loosening his fists around the steering wheel, “the disguises are not about that.”

“Then what are they about?” He snapped, turning to look at Bruce with bright, intense eyes. 

“I don’t care if the public knows I attend therapy. What I don’t want them to know is _where_ I attend, at what time, and _who I see._ As a protection to myself and my therapist. I don’t want people hounding her for information on me. Most especially not if someone ever made the connection between myself and my nightly activities.”

Bruce was a little proud of his even tone when he finished, most especially when Jason’s shoulders slowly dropped and his grip on the sunglasses loosened. He ground his teeth, Bruce could see it, from the muscle twitching in his jaw but he only sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Ok, sorry...that makes sense.” 

And then he grimaced, turning his head just to give Bruce a half curled lip. “But don’t make it sound like you're in a secret S&M club. Dressing up like a bat is bad enough you don’t need to make it worse.”

Bruce let out a put upon sigh, barely keeping the relief from his voice. “I’m choosing to ignore that comment.” 

The little uptick at the side of Jason’s mouth was worth being mocked. But he didn’t want to leave it there either.

“The same is true of you. Hopefully…” He hadn’t intended to reveal this quite yet, but if there was ever a right moment to bring it up, he supposed it was now. “It’s my hope...that you won’t be... _legally_ _dead_ forever.”

Jason went very still before he turned his head to look at Bruce like he was crazy. “You want to bring me back from the dead?”

Bruce gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, working against clenching his jaw or otherwise showing any discomfort at the conversation.

Jason opened his mouth, face going through a myriad of expressions before he let out a single, explosive breath. “That’s... _nice_ Bruce,” he said, voice strained. “But how exactly do you plan to explain my years-long absence and, you know, _not being dead?”_

“...we are working on a story.”

“We?”

“Barbara is involved. It will be necessary to forge some older documents, plant hints of your survival and such, online, backdating, etcetera. We’re working on the best way to go about it. I was going to bring it up and see what you thought once we had a more solid plan, but of course, your input would be valuable at this earlier stage as well.”

Jason stared at him for a long time, expression unreadable even without the sunglasses, teal eyes darting across his face; quiet long enough that Bruce was beginning to fear he shouldn’t have brought it up.

Or that perhaps he should have asked him how he felt first, instead of thinking this would be a good surprise. He was still not very good at knowing when, and when not, to say things.

Though, he knew that it was more often than not what he _didn’t_ say that came back to bite him in the end. 

“I want you to have a _life_ Jay. A real one. Your...your _actual_ one. You shouldn’t have to go by a fake name, or pretend like you’re just a friend of the family when we’re in public. You’re my _son,_ and you should get all the benefits that come with that.” 

He was still quiet, but when Bruce chanced a glance away from the road he caught the shine of tears in his eyes just before he turned and swiped them away. And so he waited, the soft center of his chest throbbing with each heartbeat.

“Yeah ok,” he rasped after a moment, as they exited the freeway and began the more rural drive toward the business center. “I…” he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I think I’d like that.”

“Good,” Bruce said softly, releasing the steering wheel with one hand to set it on his forearm. He squeezed gently before he let go. “You deserve it.”

Jason made a noise somewhere in the back of his throat that Bruce couldn’t identify. Whether it was a strangled laugh or something more emotional, he didn’t comment, and Jason didn’t say anything else. He just looked down at the sunglasses for a moment, before slipping them back on and adjusted his arms around Apples, stroking softly over one of her ears with just the tips of his fingers while her eyes drooped closed.

They were quiet the rest of the way, up to the parking lot and beyond. As Jason unbuckled his seat belt and clicked Apples’ leash onto her harness without prompting, letting himself out and digging his coat out of the back to slip on. They had cut it relatively close, and in just a few moments they would be late. But Bruce only grabbed his own coat and stood to the side as Jason took the opportunity to let Apples sniff around the bushes surrounding the building and relieve herself.

When she was done, Jason wound the leash around his hand and let it drop, wound it around again and let it drop, and Bruce watched as he stared up at the building with a tight set to his jaw before he swallowed and squared his shoulders, nodding to himself for a moment. Then he looked at Bruce.

“Ready?” He asked, careful to keep his voice even and low pressure.

Jason nodded again, reaching up to adjust his hat and hair before he spoke.

“Yeah. Yeah I think I’m ready.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so like O_O that this is the last chapter....not sure...what to do with myself now. Daunted at the thought of beginning a new big project but also kind of excited?? 
> 
> Please visit my [tumblr](https://batbirdies.tumblr.com) if you want updates on my upcoming project for NaNo. I'm not sure how much I'll actually post of it but you might see sneak-peeks here and there.
> 
> Anyway...I love you all for coming on this journey with me!! This has been the biggest project I've ever completed and I'm very proud and I have a lot of love for it. I hope I can keep on writing and do more projects like this one. Please drop me a comment if you've enjoyed this ride as much as I have <3 
> 
> Chapter title from Fill Into Me by Anju (Thanks D for the song rec<3)


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